


Dragon Age: Requiem

by Lord_Winterman



Series: The Apocalyptian Saga [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dwindling Party, Gen, Setting the stage, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2019-11-17 15:06:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 38,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18100925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lord_Winterman/pseuds/Lord_Winterman
Summary: Following the disappearances of entire Alienages, a former Templar sets on the path to find the truth, but finds more than she ever bargained for.





	1. The End Begins

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Dragon Age (unless you count the copies of Origins and 2). I am making zero profit over this. I am merely using the Dragon Age setting as a sandbox and frame for this story, throwing my own theories into the mix with some original characters to help things along. With the exception of those characters and the elements created specifically for this work, everything else belongs to Bioware/EA.
> 
> A/N: Updated as of 02-APR-2018
> 
> Okay, since Finding Yourself is nearing completion, I have decided to revisit some of the early portions of this story, as the success of A:FY has indicated I am not a talentless hack when it comes to writing. The reposting of this chapter included touching up some rough patches, and then adding a chunk of the story that, coincidentally, was one of the key origin points of the entire project that was intended for a later part of the release schedule.  
> Note that I will not be doing a complete overhaul of the story (for now), as that would practically require completely rewriting the entire thing over from scratch.  
> So with that out of the way, this next part can be skipped if you don’t care about the story’s history, especially if you wish to avoid possible ranting. 
> 
> ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤
> 
> It’s been a couple of years since I started this story. It’s had some ups and downs, and above all, progress has been slow. Still, it’s also one of my least active stories, so as I go through something of a performance review of the story, I’m leaving this introduction to preempt some questions that may arise in future reviews, as frankly, much of this story has been a trying learning experience on my part.
> 
> I first started this story shortly after Dragon Age 2 came out, back when all we knew about the next game was that there would be one; the functioning title of the game at the time was still Dragon Age 3.
> 
> At first, all I had cobbled together was a prologue, some early chapters and a couple of fight sequences, jotted down some notes and a starting character list, but that was where I was going to leave it, since I wasn’t all that serious about it at the time, content to just leave it in a file in a dark corner on my hard drive, forgotten until the end of time.  
> All that changed after Mass Effect 3. 
> 
> Sparing the rant, let’s just say that I found a sudden desire to begin writing in earnest, for fan-fics and beyond, a passion that has effectively overtaken my mind. 
> 
> Through all the years that passed, the story took on significantly more mass than I originally expected, the basic outline being long enough to be a short story unto itself. As more details were sewn into the weave, more information needed background exploration and time to properly integrate into the story. From there, the original prologue swelled from a mere page and a half into six separate stories in their own right, and the story itself more than tripling in length.
> 
> So, before you begin this adventure, know that it is six stories of varying length leading up the main portion. Each one is intended to reintroduce the world in the context of the divergence point and/or showcase a new element that will be integral in the final installment and resolution of the Saga. 
> 
> Make no mistake, there is a plan and, more importantly, an end in mind that will bring all these disparate pieces into a unified whole. All that remains is the execution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Updated as of 02-APR-2018
> 
> Okay, since Finding Yourself is nearing completion, I have decided to revisit some of the early portions of this story, as the success of A:FY has indicated I am not a talentless hack when it comes to writing. The reposting of this chapter included touching up some rough patches, and then adding a chunk of the story that, coincidentally, was one of the key origin points of the entire project that was intended for a later part of the release schedule.  
> Note that I will not be doing a complete overhaul of the story (for now), as that would practically require completely rewriting the entire thing over from scratch.  
> So with that out of the way, this next part can be skipped if you don’t care about the story’s history, especially if you wish to avoid possible ranting. 
> 
> ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤
> 
> It’s been a couple of years since I started this story. It’s had some ups and downs, and above all, progress has been slow. Still, it’s also one of my least active stories, so as I go through something of a performance review of the story, I’m leaving this introduction to preempt some questions that may arise in future reviews, as frankly, much of this story has been a trying learning experience on my part.
> 
> I first started this story shortly after Dragon Age 2 came out, back when all we knew about the next game was that there would be one; the functioning title of the game at the time was still Dragon Age 3.
> 
> At first, all I had cobbled together was a prologue, some early chapters and a couple of fight sequences, jotted down some notes and a starting character list, but that was where I was going to leave it, since I wasn’t all that serious about it at the time, content to just leave it in a file in a dark corner on my hard drive, forgotten until the end of time.  
> All that changed after Mass Effect 3. 
> 
> Sparing the rant, let’s just say that I found a sudden desire to begin writing in earnest, for fan-fics and beyond, a passion that has effectively overtaken my mind. 
> 
> Through all the years that passed, the story took on significantly more mass than I originally expected, the basic outline being long enough to be a short story unto itself. As more details were sewn into the weave, more information needed background exploration and time to properly integrate into the story. From there, the original prologue swelled from a mere page and a half into six separate stories in their own right, and the story itself more than tripling in length.
> 
> So, before you begin this adventure, know that it is six stories of varying length leading up the main portion. Each one is intended to reintroduce the world in the context of the divergence point and/or showcase a new element that will be integral in the final installment and resolution of the Saga. 
> 
> Make no mistake, there is a plan and, more importantly, an end in mind that will bring all these disparate pieces into a unified whole. All that remains is the execution.

_       “Since the beginning of time, history has been full of things beyond our comprehension. So very often, we used parables and legends to explain what we could not understand, and to hide that which we would rather forget. We spend so much time, living in our illusions, believing our own lies, that we are unprepared for when reality knocks on our door.”  _

    \-- Sathera

    

    Light.

    How long had it been since he had even dreamed of such a thing. Ages? Eons? Such trivial things were not supposed to exist in the realm of nothingness. Yet time still marched on, coursing in a manner beyond reality, wearing against his consciousness to intimately remind him of every passing moment.

    And there it hung, a sliver of existence lost in the seas of nothingness. It was but a simple pinpoint floating in the distance, but the infinite void of black made such a simple thing a blinding beacon. A hole in the physical world had been opened.

    Reaching out, he called upon his reserve of energy. Even weakened, gathering energy in the void was still possible, even if only in just miniscule amounts, and he had been gathering for a long time.

    Grasping the thread of light, he pulled himself through.

-¤-

The 9th of Umbralis, 9:37 Dragon

    Elione watched as her commander stood at the overlook of their outpost, eyes searching the valley for any intruders. The winds tugged at his green-grey cloak. 

    Plenty of hunter teams had stayed at the lookout over the years, but Marscius was as constant as the mountains themselves. No one remembered the time he had first taken watch, but no one would be surprised if he had a name for every stone on the mountain and in the valley below.

    Clouds billowed and swelled as the tumbled across the sky. A stormy season for the Free Marches.

     _No,_ Elione thought. _This is no ordinary storm._

    Sitting across from her, Gildart, the team's mage, was practically buzzing with excitement. A wind was blowing across the Fade and through the Veil, heralding a major shift in the realm of Spirits.

    The senior hunter's pointed ears twitched. "Could it...?” He whispered to himself.

    Gildart grinned madly, tapping his feet against the stone floor. Everyone else could feel a sense of what he was experiencing. The storm swirled around overhead, lightning flashing across the skies in wild, constant display. Thunder rumbled in the heavens and the earth quivered beneath their feet.

    As quickly as it had come, the storm quieted down, easing over the landscape.

    "It is time." Marscius declared.

    Pulling out a mirror, the senior hunter dropped it on the ground.

    "Take us home." he ordered. His stony expression could not hide his elation.

    The rest circled around Glidart as he gathered the necessary energies to complete his task. Sweat trickled from his forehead in spite of the cooled mountain air. With an arcane pulse, the mirror glowed at his touch.

    Nodding to his compatriots, one by one, they stepped into the mirror. Glancing back at the outpost that had long been his home, Marscius followed. With one last pulse, Gildart brought up the rear, leaving the mirror to disintegrate behind him.

-¤-

    Rain fell gently outside the Circle of Cumberland, a damp winter for Nevarra. In the dorms, the mages milled quietly in a darkened room, 

    Mariannae had packed her meager possessions into a bag, glancing over her shoulder nervously as she sat on her bed, waiting for the signal from her peers. Even with the distractions their jail keepers had been dealing with, she still expected them to come bursting through the doors at any moment.  

    The wait was agonizing, but they only had one chance at pulling off an escape. Slinging her bag across her back, she donned a cloak and wrapped her scarf around her neck. She could hardly believe how things were progressing, but there was no doubting her master’s words.

    After the incident at Kirkwall, all of Thedas in an uproar, none more so than the Templar Order. The Chantry’s grip on the Circles grew tighter with every passing day, threatening to strangle them all. There had been talks, of course. The Chantry proper had seen to that, but with the carnage wrought by Mage terrorists, the fanatics were baying for blood.

            “We leave tonight.” Those words were whispered to her in passing. Long enough a sentence to convey a message, short enough that an idle Templar would not notice. Mere caution would not be enough with their wardens on edge as they were.

            Some of the younger mages were gathered around her feet, children whose magical talent had been recently discovered, now waiting for the moment that would decide their fate.

            What felt like a pulse reverberated through the building. Those that she could see in the dark stood up straight, eyeing the corners of the room. By all impressions, it had not been a part of the plan, carrying an otherworldly sense, an empty howling of the void.

            Then shouts erupted downstairs.

            “It’s time.” Lora said. The older enchanter took her staff in hand and walked to the door. Mariannae gathered the children assigned to her and followed, falling in with the rest. The door opened with a slight creak.

            The Templars had already thinned out their patrols to deal with the uprising in other parts of the Circle. The vaulted ceiling carried the sounds of battle that led them to the fighting. But there were still some that remain.

            One turned to them, drawing his sword and raising his shield, ready to put down any resistance. “Return to your quar-!”

            He was cut off by a sword to the back. Mariannae sighed in relief. Few in number as they were, the mages of Thedas still had sympathizers, those who were not eager to condemn every mage of every Circle for what had happened in Kirkwall. The Templar named Ciran nodded to their group and scampered ahead to scout for more of his brethren.

            The other groups were doing their job well in keeping the Templars from noticing their escape, though Mariannae wondered how many were perishing to give them that time. She shook her head and focused on moving herself forward. 

     _This is what war is like. We all knew this would happen._

            Escape was paramount. It would be up to them to keep the cause alive.

-¤-

            Braden rolled himself out of bed, grateful that none of the servants were present to see a Magister act in such an unsightly fashion. His black hair was a mess and when looked at the mirror, he could see an ample amount of crust built up around his brown eyes.

            He had a vague recollection of a meeting he was supposed to attend today.

            A knock at the door drew him from his contemplations. “Master?” a skittish voice called from behind the door. Braden recognized the voice as belonging to Meline.

            “What is it?” he answered.

            “You told me to wake you before-”

            “So I did.” Braden interrupted with a sudden surge of energy, throwing on a robe. When he opened his bedroom door, the young girl slammed against the wall and bowed at her master’s passing. He did not understand why she acted like that, save for that her previous master was somewhat abusive. Rubbing his eyes, he turned to the girl. “Did anyone send for me yet?”

            Meline vigorously shook her head.

            “Where is Dalos?”

            “Present as ever, my lord.” Dalos replied, striding down the hall.

            Braden turned to face his attendant. “Excellent! Meline, you may leave.”

            The girl bowed and scampered off.

    Once they were alone, Braden went to business. “Any news or missives?”

            “Just one.” He replied, pulling a piece of paper from the inside of his clothes. “It was hand delivered last night. I have no idea how it made it into my quarters.”

            The magister snatched the paper from Dalos’ hand.

            “My lord, I feel it my duty to-.” He hushed when Braden raised a hand. “Of course, my lord.”

            “This is a dangerous game I’m playing, but one that I know quite well. Now let me see what this contact has to say.”

            While reading through the letter, the sensation of a wave passed over him. It felt like he was reinvigorated by it, the weariness of the political games of Tevinter dissipating. He could not help but grin. 

    “It’s time.”

-¤-

            Flemeth approached one of her old habitats. The structure had long since been weathered down to a mound of trash, but it was not the structure itself that interested her.

            Skirting along the edge of the clearing, she found a certain rock amidst the trees that had served as a marker for this site, and remarkably had not been knocked over or carried away in the intervening years. A simple spell had made sure of that.

            She pressed her hand against the rock and the ground surrounding the tree sank into a stair case that led to the ground below. The cavern contained a number of items that she had preserved of the years, but she had come for one in particular. The sarcophagus at end of the chamber.

            As she walked towards it, she felt a pulse hit her. A sense of panic washed over her, which she quickly shoved aside as she went about her task. 

            Time was already running out.

-¤-

The 11th of Verimensis, 9:38 Dragon

    “Are you sure that stuff was still good, Gladel?”

    “Are ya sure you’re not a moron, Moreck? We’ve enough problems with the last time the captain caught us drunk. Dun let him do it again.”

    “But my tummy feels odd.”

    “Quit your gripin’ and keep yer eyes open. We’re on patrol, remember?”

    “Who’s gonna be out here with it so cold?”

    “Who knows? Just shut yer trap.”

    Late night patrols were bad any day, but it was far worse in the winter. The cold winds swept down the mountain and blew through the city relentlessly. Gladel had often wondered what it was like for those in the mountains. 

     _Bet they have plenty of warm furs and fires to keep them warm_ , he thought. _And not having to do patrol duty at night for a whole week._

    His companion slapped him on the shoulder, snapping him out of his thoughts.

    ”Look over there,” Moreck said.

    The light caught the silhouette enough to show his pointed ears. Gladel looked at his partner. “Let’s have us some fun, eh?”

    The two approached the elf, who did not seem to notice.

    “Oy! What’re y’doing out at night, knife ear?” Moreck called out.

    “Just enjoying the city at night,” the elf replied, not even turning to face them.

    “Really?” Gladel said with amusement as both guards drew their swords and approached the elf. “Y’shoulda stayed ‘n the Alienage.”

    Moreck swung first. As his sword moved through the air, the elf did not move at first, waiting until the last possible moment before raising his gauntleted hand to catch the blade. With his other hand he knocked his shield away. With his challenger’s defense broken, the elf thrust his flattened hand into the guard’s abdomen, with flickers of light glistening off the blood as it exited through the man’s back. 

    After a moment that felt like an eternity, the elf turned his attention towards Gladel. When the elf wrenched his arm out of the guard, fear replaced shock and doused whatever thrill he had been anticipating.

    Unlike Moreck, Gladel had no shield, and the elf effortlessly ducked under his desperate swing and lunged at him with an outstretched arm. As the gauntleted hand grasped his face, a brilliant flash of light burned his eyes before he screamed out his last breath, cut short as the light burned through his head.

    The elf casually let the body drop to the frosted ground. 

    “That makes twelve.”

-¤-

    The sounds of scattered fighting echoed through the chambers above the main expedition. Theria and Taeodor accompanied their employer along with some other dwarves as Norghrick explored the ruins. 

    The dwarf was not joking when he recommending a full contingent of dwarves and mercenaries. They had already had to carve through countless apparitions in addition to the hordes of darkspawn they had encountered on the way down, but thankfully they had suffered few casualties thus far. 

    The air smelled horrible, with nothing but ghosts and the soulless fiends having been this far down since the Dwarven Empire crumbled. Despite its neglect, the ruins were in superb condition and during the lulls in combat they had found numerous troves of ancient artifacts that would undoubtedly fetch a high price.

    Since entering the inner sanctum of the city, Norghrick had led them to and fro, working at puzzles and having them work heavy mechanisms. Even if the sporadic fighting and being so far beneath the surface, Theria was getting restless.

    “What are we looking for?” she asked, kicking a small pile of rocks.

    “I managed to find a map of the place,” Norghrick said with a proud grin. “Apparently there’s a chamber near the bottom that is heavily secured. The way things are laid out, I’m guessing it is a vault of some sort.”

    “Why are we going there?” 

    The dwarf barked out a laugh. “Because why else would something be so well protected if it wasn’t valuable? What else would they hide here?”

    “I don’t know. Maybe some horrible abomination that could destroy all life.”

    “Hiding dangerous things is a top-dweller thing. We dwarves don’t like keeping nasties locked in our cities with us.”

    “You may have a point.”

    “Even so,” Taeodor said, “as profitable as this venture has been so far, why come all the way down here when there are several other thaigs that are ripe for the picking that are much closer and easier to reach?”

    The dwarf looked at the two elves. “Bhelen has been making numerous pushes into the Deep Roads; I wanted to get someplace he won’t be reaching for some time”

    “I’m surprised it is here to begin with; I did not think there were any thaigs this far below the surface.”

    “According to the Shaperate, no, but I heard some rumors of a thaig predating recorded dwarven history being discovered in the Free Marches, so I sent a couple of expeditions down here to take a look and they found this.”

    “Let’s get in and get out as soon as possible.” Theria said. “This place makes me shudder.”

    “I imagine it’s much better than being killed or made tranquil.”

    “True enough,” Theria replied.

    Theria had only narrowly escaped execution at the hands of the Templars. But unlike so many others, she did not want to join in the fighting that had broken out.

    To avoid being dragged into the conflict or to whatever dark hole the Templars could think of, she joined Norghrick’s expedition into the Deep Roads after coming across them along the road. After some initial apprehension, she quickly made herself useful by decimating groups of darkspawn with fireballs and lightning bolts, which had secured her place in the motley crew.

    Winding through a series of mazes, they finally came to a wall covered in ancient carvings and inscriptions. A dead end.

    “Here’s the door,” Norghrick declared.

    “I don’t see anything,” Taeodor said.

    “It was well concealed. Most likely to keep its contents hidden from anyone who would want to plunder it. It only opens with the proper key.”

    “Which you have, right?”

    “Of course,” the dwarf replied indignantly “I wouldn’t have dragged all of you down here if I didn’t have a sure way of paying you back.”

    Norghrick pulled out an amulet, adorned in fine jewels that shone with a brilliant blue, placing it in an engraving in the center of the wall. The inscriptions lit up, emitting a pulse of warmth.

    “Is it supposed to do that?”

    “I don’t understand this. Everything I had found on this indicated it that once it was finally in place the door would open.”

    “Let me try it,” said Theria pressing her hand on the amulet. The light from the amulet turned red and Theria yelped with pain as she felt something cut into her, but found that her hand was stuck. Seeing her panic, Taeodor futilely tried to pull Theria free. 

    “We have trouble!” shouted Norghrick as a group of apparitions flooded into the hallway. 

    Taeodor left Theria’s hand against the amulet and ran towards the approaching enemy forces with Norghrick’s bodyguards. Norghrick pulled out his bow and began knocking down his targets with flawless precision. Theria pointed her staff in the direction of the fighting, but with Taeodor and the others being close to the apparitions, she could not do much without hitting her allies. 

    Feeling helpless, she redoubled her efforts at freeing her hand and pressed against the amulet. With a series of clicking, her hand was released and the doors began to open, air rushing through the cracks. She turned and sent a rock at their attackers, knocking causing some of them to disappear into wisps of dust. 

    “Good job, Theria!” Taeodor shouted over the fighting.

    As more apparitions poured into the hallway, Norghrick ordered everyone into the chamber. 

    “Hold them off while I figure out how to close the doors!” Norghrick shouted to the others.

    Theria cast a wave of fire, enveloping the entire hallway and buying them a brief respite.

    The locking mechanisms fell into place firmly, unseen by those on either side of the door. Theria gasped, sinking to her knees in partial relief. As for their fearless leader, he took a moment to bang his fist against the door.

    “Fine dwarven engineering,” he declared, as if he had designed and built the door himself. 

    One of the mercenaries cursed loudly, pounding his fist against the door like his boss, only with far more desperation.

    “Calm down,” Norghrick bellowed. “At least they aren’t in here.” 

    “But we’re stuck here as well,” the mercenary shouted. “Beneath even the Deep Roads and off the beaten path with no way out.”

    “And all of our supplies are out there with them,” Taeodor added.

     “The others will take care of our stuff. Besides, there has to be another way out. Start looking,” the dwarf replied, his attention drifting around the chamber, his anger and worry transforming into awe. “Incredible. This place is enormous.” 

    “We could have fit our entire camp and expedition team inside three times over and still had room to spare, even if we didn’t bother with an orderly arrangement. And the ceiling…I can’t barely see it.”

    A warm glow from the lava cascading down into the pits below bathed the chamber in orange light. Being surrounded by the molten earth, it was a wonder the room was not like an oven.

    “There must be some barriers in place,” Theria concluded, dragging her fingers over the surface and peering into the abyss below the chamber.

    “So much empty space.” Taeodor said as he slung his sword back into its sling. “Theria, what happened to your hand?” 

            Theria inspected the mark left by the lock. “Just a scratch.”

    Blood welled from the wound that the lock had left. As she wrapped her hand up, she wondered what a magically impaired people like the dwarves would have to do with blood magic. Or any sort of magic, for that matter. 

    “Is that how we got in here?” he asked.

    She nodded, grimly. 

    “Right. Come on. Let’s try to find a way out of here. This place smells worse than the alienage”

    While the rest of the expedition team had fanned out across the perimeter of the room, the two elves scoured the center of chamber, looking down the openings in the floor and avoiding the edges. 

    At the center platform, a pedestal rose from the floor. The duo eased back with apprehension until Theria shook it off and approached it.

    The device was rather simple looking, shaped like a dome with glossy smooth edges and a dull grey color that seemed to shift as Theria reached for it.

    “Are you sure you want to touch that?” Taeodor asked. “Especially after having your hand frozen to the door?”

    She scrunched her face in thought, then answered. “If we stay here, we either starve or face the apparitions, or we fiddle with something and hope it gives us a way out of here.”

    “Sounds like a problem in the making.”

    “Look, if you manage to find some odd combination in the floor panels, give it a go. This is the only thing I can see around here that is neither walls nor molten rock.”

    Theria pressed her hand against the pedestal, which glowed as her blood made contact with its surface. A pulse of energy washed over the room, sporadic yelps of surprise marking those effected.

    At first there was only silence, then slowly, then the chamber began to shake around them. 

    Sections of the center platform were lifted from their place by invisible forces, forming a ring that turned to the face the door. Spinning along the vertical axis, the structure gradually turned faster and faster.

    “Keep your guard up,” Norghrick warned.

    Energy collected in the center of the ring and the air whipped around the room like a tempest around it. Then suddenly, the energy compressed and exploded within the confines of the ring, emitting a shockwave that sent everyone flying into the barrier.

    As the dust settled, Theria looked around. All around her, people groaned in pain from the jostling they endured, some rising to their feet faster than others.

    A lone figure was crouched at the center of the chamber, an elf with shriveled and cracked skin and a cloud of frost wafting from his body, for a moment dropping the temperature of the room by a noticeable degree. Some tattered, pitch black robes hung around his waist, held up by the belt, and a mass of hair grey hair reached down and sat in a heap at his feet. Likewise, his fingernails scraped along the floor as he heaved.

    Standing to his feet with a series of loud popping, the elf began loosening his joints, cracking like rusted hinges as his deathly pale skin warmed and rejuvenated, repairing the cracks and becoming more lifelike. His hair darkened to match the color of his clothes, thickening immensely in the process.

    His eyes snapped open, glowing red as he surveyed the scattered explorers as they slowly rose to their feet, narrowing with disappointment and boredom as he took in the sight. He looked down at his hair and nails. As if willed to do so, his nails snapped off at his fingertips, allowing him to gather his hair in one hand and slice the excess with the edge of his hand, still leaving it to reach his ankles.

    Instincts taking over, one of the mercenaries, a Vashoth, charged at the elf, swinging his greatsword with a loud battle-cry. The closer he got to his target, the clearer the difference in height became apparent. 

    Standing more than a head taller than horned being, the elf grabbed him and ripped the sword from the mercenary’s hands, shattering bones, then clamping a hand over his mouth to silence the screams. 

    Glaring at the smaller humanoid as he hoisted him above his head with one hand, the elf ran the grey-skinned warrior with his own blade and slung him off onto the floor.

    The rest of the mercenaries sprung to action and charged, hoping to overwhelm the elf with numbers.

    Barely stepping forward, the elf slashed the first mercenary, rending him open with a single swing, leaping into the center of the shoddy formation and proceeding to methodically cut them down.

    Supporting her allies, Theria launched a salvo of fireballs at the large elf, the first of which were blocked by the body of one of the deceased mercenaries, while the rest harmlessly impacted the elf’s skin, drawing his gaze to her. An idle wave of his hand, and Theria was held fast.

    “Someone put him down!” Norghrick

    The archers loosed a volley of arrows, covering Taeodor and the other members of the party that were still recovering.

    Grabbing another sword, the elf twirled around in his hand and threw it like a javelin, pinning Norghrick to the wall. He held his hand up towards the expedition team, sparks erupting from palm, striking the ranged fighters down in quick succession.

            Taeodor grabbed his sword and got to his feet. The remaining members of the expedition team joined him, facing the elf as he strode towards them. “Come on,” he grunted. “We aren’t finished yet.”

    With a loud cry, they charged at him. At the lead, Taeodor found himself being thrown against the wall next to a paralyzed Theria. Both helplessly watched as the others were slaughter before their eyes. The screams of pain barely covered the sound of snapping bones and singing metal as the mercenaries were brutally crushed.

    When the last cry died out, drenched in blood, the elf walked up to the lone survivors. He reached out to them, and Theria and Taeodor found themselves suspended, struggling against his arcane grip as they were forced to meet his gaze.

    “Thank you for your assistance, child,” he said with a low voice, though other tones whispered, as if at a distance. “I was wondering if anyone would ever open the door again.” With his free hand, he reached towards Taeodor. “Thousands of years pass and look at how you have been brought down to such pitiful shadows of your former selves. Even so, I still have a use for both of you.”

    He grabbed Taeodor’s head, his hand covering his face. “I have slumbered for a long time. Let us see what I have missed.”

    Taeodor yelled out in pain as the air warped around his entire being. Theria closed her eyes tightly, trying to shut out his screams of agony. When the screams stopped, she forced herself to look, watching as Taeodor’s lifeless body was tossed away like a broken toy.

    The elf turned, extending his hand to her. “Your turn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Updated as of 13-MAR-2019
> 
> Hello, everyone! After months of idling, I finally decided to try my hand at working out my AO3 account. This is the first work I'll be migrating.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the midst of the chaos running rampant throughout Thedas, shadows begin to move in the corners of the land.

       “How’s about another pint?” the Bartender offered.  
  
      “No, I have had enough.” Merana politely declined. She honestly wanted to drink more, but the money from her previous job had to be spent on other things.   
  
      The tavern was at a low din with conversation. rumors of growing tensions between various Orlesian nobles, others about Templars and mages clashing in the next village, or another bandit attack down the road. Most of them were just rumors, but sometimes there was some news that came with it.  
  
      Discreetly, she looked around and at the door, hoping that no one was going to burst through. Hopefully, it was just the paranoia of being a fugitive that was getting to her. Every noise seemed to make her heartbeat run wild since she had left Ghislain. She had paid for a room for another night, but she probably was not going to sleep well with the tremors she had been suffering as of late.  
  
      Joarre was a small town that was the home of many hunters, miners, and woodsmen. Situated near the base of the Hunterhorn Mountains, the city was more rough-and-tumble than other Orlesian cities. There was no Alienage either. The settlement was too small for it. Not that the locals cared much for it in the first place.   
  
      “Folks around here care more about whether or not you can do something for them than who or what you are.” The old man had said when she first arrived in town.   
  
      The population seemed to reflect that. She had seen humans, elves, dwarfs, and even the occasional vashoth mingling together in the town’s market, brushing shoulders as they passed each other. Everyone seemed to mind their own business. That was probably the only reason she had stayed as long as she had.   
  
      Even though her shoulder length red hair covered the tips of her ears, it did not take a genius to figure out that she was an elf, and no one seemed to mind her wandering around or mingling with the locals. It was better than where she had come from.   
  
      The morning brought little more than sweeping winds coming down from the mountain and sunlight reflecting off of a thin layer of snow that had come in the night. When she finally had the courage to leave her bed, she wrapped her cloak tightly around herself and got her blood flowing before she tried putting on her armor.   
  
      It was nothing particularly special, but it bore a small number of scratches where it had saved her life. Normally she would have worn a helmet, but the cold hurt her ears, so she opted for warmth and avoiding frostbite over covering her entire body with armor. It also allowed her to look over her shoulder more easily and allowed her to blend in better. Once she had eaten breakfast, she walked out into the street.  
  
      Her boots cracked the frozen puddles. By midday they would be partially melted, and when night came again, it would be frozen solid once more. The town was remarkably busy for the weather it routinely experienced. Hopefully she would be able to find work before her money ran out.   
  
      In the past, she could have spent weeks scrounging and foraging before a job came up, but far too often had a call gone out that she was on the run again, hungry and angry. Regardless of the political conditions, she doubted she would be ignored if someone who knew her were to happen upon her.  
  
      A visit to the local Chantry Board yielded no results. Since the locals were either entirely self-sufficient or well-attuned to the needs of their neighbors, Merana was hardly surprised that there was not even a Chanter standing next to it.  
  
      As she turned to check the barracks for possible work, the doors of the Chantry swung open with a human storming out. Before Merana could put the unfolding events behind, the man spotted her walking away from the Chantry Board and approached her.  
  
      “You!” He called out. “Are you a skilled fighter?”  
  
      Merana cringed. “What business is that of yours?” she asked, not even stopping or looking the man in the eye.  
  
      “I’m looking to hire someone to accompany me on an urgent matter.”  
  
      Her curiosity now piqued, she stopped and looked at the man. Judging by his attire and the equipment he had on himself, he was most likely a lumberjack. She could not recall ever seeing him in town before, so he likely lived further up in the mountains.   
The man seemed to sense her thoughts and headed her off. “I know it doesn’t look like it, but I can pay.”  
  
      “How could someone like have enough money to make it worth my while?” Merana scoffed.  
  
      “If you want to know the specifics, we can discuss the matter in a more private setting.” The man said, scratching at his unkempt facial hair. “I’m not necessarily comfortable speaking about it in public.”   
  
      “Very well.” Merana replied after a moment’s pause. “I will hear you out on your proposition, but I make no guarantees as to whether or not I will accept.”

  
  
-¤-

  
      In the time spent waiting, the man introduced himself as Darran Trace and said nothing else until their drinks arrived. The beverage was a pleasantly warm with a slightly bitter aftertaste that Merana had not gotten around to asking about its contents. Taking sips from her mug, Merana continued to look over her potential employer while he stared into his cup, as if it held the answers to life’s mysteries.  
  
      When it seemed that he had gotten lost in thought, Merana was tempted to leave when he began to speak.  
  
      “I’m sorry,” He began. “But I had talked with people all over town, with little more than a moment of sympathy before turning walking away. I thought I was going to have to go to Andoral’s Reach before I found someone who would even consider taking up the job.”  
  
      “So the Chantry was your last stop before you went to the next town?” Merana replied.  
  
      “It was desperation that sent me there, even though I knew there wouldn’t be any Templars with all of the mages in an uproar.”  
  
      “So what are you hiring me for?”  
  
      Darran rubbed his eyes, slightly crusted from drowsiness. “A few weeks ago, I went on a logging trip. When I came home, I found my home reduced to a pile of ashes with my children butchered and dragged out in front.” The man paused to blink back tears before continuing. “I know there is no way for me to bring them back, but it’s my wife that I concerned about.”  
  
      “Why is that?”  
  
      “If she were dead, I would have found a corpse, and there is no reason I can think of for carrying off a dead woman.”  
  
      “How do you even know where they went?”  
  
      “A couple of days ago, I heard from some of friends who have been traveling around. They said that someone has been wiping out alienages across northern Orlais, usually preceded by a small string of murders the week before. It’s possible that they’re connected.”  
  
      “That is quite the leap in logic.”  
  
      “Hang on, they didn’t put this together, I did. What they had said was that someone was attacking alienages and that someone was going around murdering people.”  
  
      “That still does not say how you know where they are.”  
  
      “They had just come from Perendale. The last they heard, bodies had been turning up two days before they left.”  
  
      “And you think you would be able to get there in time to catch them? Even with horses and during the warmer seasons it would be difficult to get there within several days.”  
  
      “To be honest, I would grateful if I could find a trail or some clue among the rubble. But if we can catch them, so much the better.”  
  
      “Okay, that answers most of that, but why would they target your family?”  
  
      “My wife is an elf.” He answered flatly. “Beyond that, I’m hoping I’ll find out.”  
  
      “And you need another person for that?”  
  
      “The extra swords are mostly because of all of the fighting going on. I’d much rather be safe than dead.”  
  
      Merana sighed. While she would much rather have some evidence to back these theories, from the discussion, he had put a considerable amount of thought into this, and all the man was asking was for her to provide security. If she was not so short on money, she would have probably never decided to meet with him. Maybe it was a good time to skip town. She had been there long enough for them to have caught up.  
  
      “Fine, I will take the job.” Merana said. “But I am going to have to grab some things before we go.”  
  
      As she stood up to leave, the familiar sound of a bag of coins hitting the table caught her attention.  
  
      “Your initial payment,” Darran said, shoving the purse closer to her. “In good faith.”  
  
      Nodding her acceptance and picking the bag from the table, Merana returned to her room. Curious, she opened the bag, sifting through the contents with her finger. She let out a low whistle.   
  
      “I just have to escort him.” She said to herself. “Just get him to wherever he wants to go.”  
  
      In the corner of her eye, she saw someone standing next to the window. Dropping the bag, her hand flew to the hilt of her sword as she turned to face the intruder, but it was gone.  
  
      Merana shook her head, scratching her nose with her thumb. “Not again.”

  
-¤-

  
      After they had gathered their belongings and acquired some horses, they headed down the east road in silence. The wind had tapered off before the evening, making the journey more bearable, but with most of the day lost in preparing for the road, they had to make camp for the night before they were able to make much headway.  
  
      Darran’s skills as a lumberjack proved to be useful and camp was expertly set up before the sun had disappeared over the horizon despite the frosty conditions. Merana took first watch, keeping a watchful eye on her employer and routinely glancing around the woods, bracing for an attack that never came.  
  
      When Darran woke to take up the watch, he took a seat next to the fire and thanked the Maker that they were still in an isolated part of the country, as Merana’s snoring would have likely alerted to their location anyone who would do them harm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Updated as of 13-MAR-2019.
> 
> When I first started publishing this story back in 2015 (about three and a half years ago), I had yet to hammer out a standard set of operations when it came to posting, specifically regarding author commentaries. I think the reason was that I was concerned about giving something away unintentionally. As a result, Requiem has nearly zero commentary with the original publication. If possible, I will try and shed some light on the subject, especially since AO3 allows me field questions a bit more easily (and openly) compared to FFN.


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey to Perendale meets a few snags.

Merana’s vision was blurry, but she could make out the sword sticking out of someone’s back, the blood mixing with the rainwater as it trickled to the ground.

“I’m sorry it had to end this way.” A familiar voice said.

Looking to at the person embracing her, she could see a faint smile through the damp clumps of hair.

“Thank you.” The voice whispered.

Merana eyes snapped open from her dream. Reaching for her dagger, she stopped short when she remembered her surroundings.

The morning had brought more cold weather and a fresh layer of frost. Darran had a fire going with breakfast sizzling on a pan that he had brought. His eyes alternated between the food and the road, barely visible beyond the trees.

“You're rather loud when you're sleeping.” he said. “I'd wager it makes up for your silence when you're awake.”

“You are not paying me for idle conversation.” she retorted.

“True enough.” he replied absently. “At any rate, did you sleep well?”

“As far as you are concerned, yes.” Merana shivered. “Are you part bear? How can you stand this weather?”

“I'm used to sleeping on the road.” The sound of stirring wildlife caught his attention. “You'd best get moving. We have a long road ahead of us.

After both of them had warmed up, they broke camp and resumed their journey. The wind had picked up again, cutting into through their clothes.

The roads were devoid of any other travelers, and the only signs of life were the occasional wild animal they spooked that would take off running.

Upon coming to a clearing, they saw a sign that read ‘Merdicole’ referring to the village that rested on the hill and spread around the surrounding area. Their arrival was met with little more than confused glances, as the village seemed to be in disarray, with people wandering around with bewildered looks on their faces. 

One man was standing at a high point, addressing the few who bothered to hear him out. If Merana’s guess was good, the man was probably a minor noble in charge of the village and only barely passed as one, if only because of the line of poorly equipped guards protecting him from a crowd that was more confused, and not remotely interested in wasting their time and energy on the small man rambling about the “keeping peace”.  
His shoulders were hunched over, making his short stature all the more significant when he stepped down from his perch.

“You there, travelers.” The little lord called as his meager crowd dispersed. “My name is Baron Claude Descoteaux, my land has suffered a crisis, and I find myself in need of assistance.”

“Really,” Merana said with mock concern. “What crisis are you facing?”

Ignoring the sarcasm, the tiny man pressed forward with his line of thought. “It appears most of my labor force has up and left. Now the entire city is in chaos.”

“Your entire labor force?” Darren questioned.

“Yes, the blasted knife-ears failed to show up for their assigned duties. I sent some guards into their part of town, and everyone was gone without a trace.”

Merana cringed at the idiocy of the baron, but went on pressing him for information.

“This place is smaller than Jorrae, how does it have an alienage?”

“It doesn’t, but most of them tended to keep to themselves in another part of town.”

“Were they ‘persuaded’ to do so?”

“No, they just seemed to prefer it that way.” Descoteaux answered, either oblivious to the thinly veiled accusation, or was intelligent enough not to become confrontational with well-armed mercenaries, but his previous comments made the second unlikely. 

“But your men found nothing regarding the disappearance?”

“No, it is if they all simply ran off into the night.”

They were not getting anywhere with the baron, but they at least had a possible lead, if they could spare the time. 

“I’m sorry,” Merana said with her most diplomatic tone, trying to get rid of the baron before either of them decided to kill him. “But we have matters that require us elsewhere.”

“Bah!” Descoteaux shouted. “Why did you bother asking me so many questions if you were not going to help?” 

With that, he and his entourage of guards marched back into the directions of what was presumed to be his estate.

“You shouldn’t bother with that lead.” A voice said from behind. “I’ve already checked the slums.”

Merana and Darran turned to the direction of the voice. A tall, dark-haired man stood on top of the roof, wearing dark colored clothing and a tattered, long black coat that touched his ankles, and rested his right hand on the hilt of his sword. Sliding off the roof, he made a polite bow and introduced himself. “My name is Hector.”

“I’m Darran, and this is Merana.”

“You say you checked the slums, what did you find?” Merana asked, dispensing with pleasantries.

“Apart from the fact that they all simply disappeared overnight, some of them seemed to have left in the middle of a meal, perhaps the late hours of the evening, and there were scattered signs of a resistance, but what was most curious was the line that encircles the entire district.”

“Meaning that at least one mage is involved.”

“Considering how widespread this is, I would presume there to be more.”

“How many more?”

“Enough to need another sword.” Hector said matter-of-factly. “You’re headed to Perendale as well, are you not?”

“Why do you want to know?” Merana challenged.

“I would like to join you on the venture.”

“You want to come with us? Just like that?” 

“I suppose you could say I am on something of an adventure, and Perendale is where the adventure is calling me to.”

“I may not be able to adequately pay for another mercenary.” Darran said, scratching his head.

“Oh, I’m not looking to be hired. I offer my services free of charge.”

“Really?” Merana asked, obscuring her suspicions while Darran weighed his options, finally relenting to the man’s request after some internal debate and extending his hand to their new companion. “Welcome aboard.”

“Much obliged.” Hector replied, returning the handshake, his face maintaining his expression like a mask.

“Well, unless you have some business to attend to, let’s get a move on.” 

Merana held her tongue, despite her misgivings about the decision. She had not intended to get as involved in her employer’s investigation, but her better nature had won out over pragmatic vigilance. Now they were picking up a random passerby, making what had been a mild passing paranoia into a clanging warning bell in her skull.

It would likely be better to simply cut her loses and find some other town to hole up in if she had enough money to do so, but if she suddenly disappeared, it would raise more questions about her than she dared to risk.

Wiping most everything about the dung-hole of a town from their memories as it disappeared into the distance, the trio sped down the road.

By early the following afternoon, they had made great progress, but came to a halt when they saw a roadblock in the distance, with a wagon being held up by some Orlesian soldiers who were manning it.

“What business do you have on the road, dwarf?” the Captain interrogated as his men circled the cart menacingly.

“I already told you. I have business to conduct in the next town.” The dwarf answered politely. “Is there a problem?”

“We are keeping an eye out for dissidents and traitors.”

“Well, unless you’re planning on buying something, I’d like it if your men to get their paws off of my wares.”

The soldiers ignored her and continued to prod the wagon, looking for anything of value.  
In a blur of motion, the dwarf leveled a crossbow at the nearest soldier. “Buzz off!” She warned menacingly.

The soldiers stepped back, but after the initial shock wore off, they circled around the wagon with some of them drawing their weapons. 

The dwarf seemed apprehensive, knowing that the one bolt would only dissuade them as long as none of them were willing to risk death to take her out. 

"That simply won't do." Hector said ominously.

"What do you intend?"

"Unless we wish to try finding another route or cutting across the terrain, it would seem prudent to dispose of this hindrance."

Before anyone could make a move, Hector approached the roadblock, hopping off his horse when he got close enough.

“I would advise against that course of action.” Hector warned, smirking as he gripped the hilt of his sword.

“And what are you going to do about it?” one of the Soldiers snapped.

“Well, my sword is still clean at this point,” Hector answered, letting out a small chuckle “So I think it is less a matter of what I'm going to do about this and more of what you're going to do about it.”

“You dare threaten an Orlesian soldier?” The captain shouted, lashing out with his sword, but found it flying from his hand and himself crashing to the ground as Hector slashed the tendon in his right arm and the back of his kneecap.

The captain writhed in the dirt, his arm flopping aimlessly while Hector stood over him, planting his boot on his back as addressed the man's underlings. “He’s bleeding, but if you get him to healer quickly enough, he might actually be able to walk again.” Said Hector over the screams of the bleeding officer.

“Die!” one of the soldiers screamed as he and another soldier ran at the swordsman. With a quick series of slashes, the two soldiers found themselves laying next to their commanding officer.

“Any other takers?” Hector challenged, resting his sword on his shoulder.

Getting the hint, the soldiers picked up the wounded colleagues.

As the soldiers cleared out, Hector swung his sword to the ground, flicking off any excess blood from the long, narrow blade and wiping off the remainder with a cloth before sheathing it again. Merana and Darran trotted up, leading Hector's horse to him.

“Sorry you had to jump in like that.” The dwarf apologized. “The soldiers have been gettin’ rather uppity lately.”

“It was no trouble.” Hector replied.

The dwarf smiled and kicked the underside of the wagon. “You can come out now.” 

A human with age-greyed hair emerged from the covering, blinking in the sunlight.

“Why was he in there?” Darran asked.

“You don’t show your opponents all of your cards, especially your aces. So sometimes he hangs in the back in case we run into…undesirable company.”

“Does it always work?”

“It’s gotten us some extra equipment, if that’s what you’re asking.”

When her comment was met with an awkward silence, the dwarf went onto the next topic.

“The name’s Lenli.” The dwarf said, enthusiastically jabbing her thumb into her chest. “My friend over there is Garbune.”

“Hello.” The older man said, waving at the trio and slinking back into the cart.

“Where are you going?” Darran asked.

“Like we told that soldier, we have some business to conduct.” Lenli answered. “Perendale is our next planned stop.”

“That’s where we are headed, as well.”

“Maybe we can travel together. I doubt that those soldiers will be the only ones of their type.”

Deciding to intervene, Merana pulled Darran aside. “We can’t afford any more delays, and a cart would only slow us down.”

“Well, you know what they say: the more the merrier.”

“Yes, but you are on a mission that relies on our utmost haste, and you are paying me to get you there.”

Darran bit his lip and turned to Lenli.

“I’m sorry," He said politely. "but we will have to decline your offer.” 

“Hey, no sweat.” Lenli answered, cheerily. “We appreciate the help, but if you need to get out of here in a hurry, don’t let us slow you down.”

Leaving the wagon trailing behind in the dust, the rest of the day’s journey was rather uneventful. As night fell, the moon bathed the landscape with its light from the cloudless sky providing ample illumination as they pressed to Andoral’s Reach.

The hill overlooking the city provided a good vantage point, and with the moon shining down, they could see the sinkhole where the alienage had been as plainly as day.

“They must have come here first.” said Merana. 

“Or Perendale’s alienage is already gone.” Hector suggested.

Darran took a deep breath and exhaled sharply. “Okay, we’ll stay here the night.” He said. “We’ll check what’s left of the alienage in the morning before we leave.”

The city had a disconcertingly quiet air hanging about it. No one was drinking or partying in the streets and even the guards seemed focused and on edge as they kept vigilant to a threat they knew nothing about.

They found an inn close to what was left of the alienage and paid for the night. In the bar, there were workers gathered around every table, barely leaving any room for the trio to sit down at the bar.

Ordering their drinks, Merana began looking around nervously. Too many people. Too many unknowns.

Her fit of paranoia was disrupted by Darran asking one of the worker who looked to be in charge; a grizzled man with some light scars on his left cheek.

“What can you tell me about the alienage?” Darran asked.

“Not much really.” The man answered. “A few of nights ago it was really quiet, then the next moment we feel the ground shaking. By the time anyone knew what was happing, the alienage had been destroyed.”

“Was there anyone who saw it happen?”

“No, not that we found anyways.”

“Did you find any survivors?”

“No, which is the most unsettling thing; there hardly any corpses to be found.”

“What do you mean by ‘hardly’?” Merana asked.

“Exactly that.” The man said. “We scoured the area for a couple of days, but the only people we found were those who had been near the alienage when it had fallen and some elf-bloods, and there weren’t many of those either.”

“Very peculiar.” Darran said to himself.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” the man said, standing up to quell the growing rowdiness from the other workers. “I have some other matters to attend to.”

After the bar had emptied somewhat, they migrated to a table and discussed their findings.

“I guess that confirms most of your theory, Darran.” Merana said.

“Yeah, but the how and why are what I still can’t figure out.” He replied.

“They would not to get them out without being noticed, and teleportation is something impossible even for magic.”

“Unless they used an Eluvian.” Hector added.

All eyes turned to Hector.

“It’s an elvish thing from back before the fall of Arlathan. It's a mirror that allowed for communication and travel across great distances.” Hector explained. “Maybe someone found a way to get them working again.”

“Should we be looking at the elves then?” Darran asked.

“I highly doubt that all of the city elves had a moment of realization and collectively decided to leave.” Merana mused. “No, they had to have had outside influence.”

“The Dalish, perhaps?”

“Unless something’s changed, most Dalish elves aren’t exactly rushing to save their city-dwelling cousins.” said Hector.

“Another likely culprit would be Tevinter.” Merana suggested. “Who else would need this many living people to anything?”

“I doubt Tevinter slavers are behind this one.” Darran said as he rubbed his fingers against his temples. “But the big question is do you think the larger cities are going to be next?”

“Well, we’re not going to find out by talking about it.” Hector said, standing from his seat. “We need more information that involves us digging through the rubble, or finding someone who was there. “So unless someone has a solid theory, I suggest we hit the hay and rise early tomorrow.”

While Hector went up the stairs to his room, Merana and Darran lingered at the table.

“I know it might be a stretch, but what if the Dalish are involved?” Darran asked.

She furrowed her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“The man said they only found elf-bloods in the alienage proper. I‘m not coming up with any other organizations that would be that picky who aren’t elven, and the Dalish are the only ones who could have a reason for choosing now to make a move.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Has there ever been another time when all of Thedas was this distracted when there wasn’t a Blight? Orlais is on the brink of civil war, there are rumors that Tevinter is having similar issues, and to top it all off, the mages and Templars are universally getting at each other’s throats, and Maker knows what all else is happening. No one seems to be paying these attacks serious attention, and there wasn’t any mention of anything like this happening before.”

“Tevinter slavers pick at elven communities all of the time-”

“But they’ve never taken a whole alienage,” Darran interrupted. “Nor have they ever passed up anybody who was able bodied, and they most certainly don’t go through these lengths to cover their tracks.”

“You seem rather sure on the matter.”

Darran sighed and leaned back into his chair. “Like Hector said, we have nothing but theories with nothing solid to back them up. Hopefully the alienage ruins will provide us some clues.”

Merana wanted to ask him more questions, but decided to back off and went off to bed. The light from the windows made falling asleep difficult, leaving her to mull over her thoughts on the conversation.

Her train of thought was interrupted by a young elf girl standing in the corner. Recognizing it as a hallucination, she slapped her palm against her face and shook her head, wrapping the blankets around herself tighter. “I am becoming too invested in this mission aren’t I, sis?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Updated as of 13-MAR-2019
> 
> Re-reading this, I am confronted with many of my early shortcomings regarding my own writing. 
> 
> Fun bit of trivia:According to my notes, the name of the village visited in this chapter is basically French for "pile of dung". There is no town on any official map of Thedas with that name when I last checked.


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Digging through the rubble of the alienage, Merana and Hector debate their mission.

Woken by a knock at the door, Merana sat up in bed and reached for her sword. She inwardly cursed and threw the covers aside. The relatively warmer weather made getting out of bed much easier. Or, she wondered, she was faring better because she was in an actual bed.  
  
      “Morning, Merana,” Darran called from the other side of the door. “It’s going to be daylight soon, and we still need to check the alienage here before we leave.”  
  
      “Very well,” she replied. “I will be out shortly.”  
  
      Shaking herself awake, she went about putting on her armor. As she descended the stairs, she found the others finishing up their breakfast. Not wanting to hold the others back, Merana shoveled her food down with ridiculous speed.  
  
      Hector emerged into the dining room, his black coat grey from a layer of dust.  
  
      “You seem disappointed.” Darran commented.  
  
      “I thought there would be more that we could do.” Hector answered, shaking himself from of his thoughts.  
  
      “Don’t let you hopes falter yet. I had a chat with the foreman. According to him, there was still plenty of rubble to dig through.”  
  
      “I do not think that is what he is after.” Merana muttered, covering her mouth so as not to spit out her food.  
  
      Hector squinted at her, squeezing his food in his mouth to one side as if to say something, but thought better of it and went on chewing.  
  
      After breakfast, they joined the group of people scouring the sinkhole. Around midday, most of the workers broke for lunch while Merana, Darran, and Hector continued digging.  
  
      Darran surveyed the ruins with dissatisfaction. "I guess we'll start over there." he said, pointing towards the center of the crater  
  
  
      “What did you mean by what you said earlier?” Hector asked once Darran had moved off a little ways away from them.  
  
      “What are you referring to?” Merana asked.  
  
      “The ‘I do not think that is what he is after’.”  
  
      “I meant that you are not here for the purest of motives.”  
  
      “Just get to the point.”  
  
      Merana dropped a wooden beam and stared at the swordsman.  
  
      “It’s just like with the soldiers; you are just looking for a fight. You don’t care about these people.”  
  
      “Well, you’re free to think that.”  
  
      “Am I wrong?”  
  
      “No, you’re only half right. But that might as well be the same thing in this case as far as you’re concerned. And it’s not like you’re a perfect person either, taking this job for money.”  
  
      “Everyone needs money.”  
  
      “Wrong. Everyone needs pay.”  
  
      “Is that not the same thing?”  
  
      “Not necessarily.”  
  
      “Even so, you joined this quest with no promise of reward.”  
  
      "Trust me, I am getting a reward out of this. As for you, I imagine you could’ve found work in plenty of other places besides some backwater village. What are you hiding from?”  
  
      Staring the man down, Merana considered reaching for her sword and disposing of him. Before she could think better of it, a faint cough interrupted their conversation. The efforts in digging were redoubled as they tried to figure where the sound had come from.  
  
      “Is anyone there?” a weak voice said, echoing in what was likely a part of a building that had stayed intact during the collapse.  
  
      “Yes, we’ll get you out in a moment.” Darran called out.  
  
      When they had dug close enough, Merana nearly fell through the wall they were on top of.  
  
      Standing in the sunlight was an elven girl with long blonde hair, putting her hand in front of her face to shield her eyes. Her face and clothes were covered in dust and mud, and there were some noticeable scratches on her.  
  
      “I will go down to retrieve her.” Merana said.  
  
      “You’re sure?” Hector asked.  
  
      “Yes.”  
  
      Hector exhaled sharply. “I’ll get some rope. Can you wait until then?”  
  
      “I am giving you ten minutes before I jump down there.”  
  
      “Going.”  
  
      As Hector scampered off, the girl gasped. “Don’t leave.” She pleaded.  
  
      “I am still here. My companion is getting some help.”  
  
      A motion that Merana could only assume was a nod or a shiver.  
  
      “What is your name?”  
  
      “Aevra.”  
  
      “I am Merana.”  
  
      Before long, Hector ran up with a rope and tied it to the sturdiest object he could find. Merana affixed the rope to herself and eased herself down into the cavity. The girl was very compliant and responded to Merana’s orders. After the girl had been cleared of any serious injuries, she was carried back up.  
  
      When they had brought her back to the surface, the girl fell asleep in Merana’s arms like a small child, instead of the fourteen-year-old she likely was.  
“What do we do with her?” Hector asked.  
  
      “If she was a witness to whatever happened,” a gravelly voice said from behind. “I would recommend getting her somewhere safe and out of the way before the culprits come back to tie up the loose ends.”  
  
      Facing the sound of the voice, the group turned back to see Lenli and Garbune standing on the hill above them.  
  
      “’Ello.” The dwarf greeted cheerily.  
  
-¤-  
  
      “I kind of figured we would run into each other again.” Lenli said, stoking the campfire.  
  
      “Are you sure it was a good idea to just take the girl?” Darran asked. “If she knows something, we could convince them to help us, right?”  
  
      “I doubt it.” said Merana. “They did not seem to have the necessary resources to chase an enemy such as this, and it will take time for the information to get to the right people. In the time it would take to do that, whoever is doing this could easily move on to another settlement, or come after her.”  
  
      “Don’t worry; Garbune is a skilled healer.” said Lenli.  
  
      “I was surprised you had a mage working with you.” Darran commented. “But I guess that explains why you put him in the wagon so often”  
  
      “Actually, he’s been an apostate for several years now, even before the Kirkwall Rebellion. They actually haven’t been really looking for him for a while now. In fact, most people don’t give the old man with the walking stick any trouble at all.”  
The conversation halted when Garbune walked up to the campfire to warm his himself.  
“It looks like our little friend will make a recovery.” he said as he rubbed his hands together.  
  
      “Is she awake?” Darran asked.  
  
      “Yes, but take it easy on the questioning. She’s still a bit disoriented right now.”  
      Merana followed Darran to Garbune’s makeshift clinic. Aevra had sat up and her unbound blond hair drifted in front of her face, which swung out of the way when she turned to look at her visitors.  
  
      “Hello, I’m Darran,” he introduced himself with a fatherly tone.  
  
      “Where are we?” she asked.  
  
      “We’re on the road to Perendale, just north of Andoral’s Reach.”  
  
      “But what about home? I want to go home,” Aevra pleaded.  
  
      Darran cringed slightly and then put a reassuring hand on the frightened girl’s shoulder. “Aevra, your home is gone.”  
  
      “What about my mama and papa?”  
  
      “Missing, along with everyone else from the alienage,” said Merana, keeping her stoic composure.  
  
      “But,” Darran diplomatically interjected. “We hoped that you could help us. Do you remember anything?”  
  
      The girl shook her head.  
  
      “It would’ve been late in the evening, does that help?”  
  
      Another shake of the head.  
  
      “Do you mind leaving me to talk with her?” Merana asked.  
  
      Darran nodded his head after a moment of thought, realizing her reason, and turning to leave the tent.  
  
      “Don’t worry about the shem,” Merana said once he was out of earshot, dispensing her accent and formal speech patterns for their originals from living in an alienage. “Where he’s from they’re not used to having elves fear him.”  
  
      “Why did your voice change?” Aevra asked.  
  
      “When I first started training, one of my friends taught me all of those things. I usually keep them up from habit now.”  
  
      The girl’s shoulders relaxed a bit more as she stared at her lap with a slight smile on her face, like she had discovered she was talking to a lost relative. After a pleasant moment of smiling, her face refocused and she furrowed her brow.  
  
      “I really don’t know what happened,” said Aevra.  
  
      “Well, that’s okay. What else can you remember? Anything at all.”  
  
      “I remember papa going to meet with some of the neighbors several nights. Mama had said that he shouldn’t bother with what they were talking about”  
  
      “But you don’t remember exactly what they said?”  
  
      “No, mama said not to worry about it.”  
  
      Merana sighed. This was going nowhere. The girl was still in shock from waking up far from home, but it could not be helped.  
  
      Without any way to obtain the information they needed, the two elves began talking back and forth about other things.  
  
-¤-  
  
  
      “She is sleeping again,” Merana said as she approached the campfire.  
  
      “You talked for some time,” commented Darran. Disappointed.  
  
      “It was mostly to calm her down and see if she knew about anything else.”  
  
      “Was there anything else?” Hector asked.  
  
      “From what she said, there were several meetings in the alienage before the event, but she did not know any details.”  
  
      “Do you think these people are really after the girl?”  
  
      “Who knows? But we are not abandoning her, nor are we taking her back until we are sure they are not.”  
  
      “If Garbune still needs to treat her, we might as well tag along for now,” said Lenli. “You’re headed to Perendale next, right? That’s crossing over into Nevarra, so we’ll have to be a bit cautious. Especially if we have some…fugitives.”  
  
      “Have you crossed the border before?”  
  
      “Yes, but the route we took cuts through the mountains and it would take us pretty far from our destination.”  
  
      “So we take the main road, keep the girl out of sight until we get into town, and then swing by the alienage.”  
  
      “That’s if we can get across the border. I hear that the Chevaliers are pretty stubborn keeping people from crossing over.”  
  
      “Maybe the local tensions will have drawn them away.”  
  
      “Once we’re in the city, we’ll still have to find a hiding place for her,” said Darran.  
  
      “I can take care of that,” said Garbune. “For as long as she requires to be hidden. I have become quite adept at remaining unnoticed.”  
  
      “Very well. We move at first light; I’ll take the first watch tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Updated as of 19-MAR-2019
> 
> This was the point I was bringing things together as far as the plot for Requiem went. The protagonists retrieved living plot ticket, then the part assembles to continue the journey onward. We also get a bit of insight/foreshadowing as far as the pasts for the characters go.


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaching Perendale, Darran and Merana hide their ward as they search the wreckage, but shadows begin closing.

The next couple of days of traveling brought warmer weather as they moved east and into the warmer climate of Nevarra. Merana spent a considerable amount of time chatting up Aevra, asking questions about her home life, hoping that the idle conversation would trigger her memories.

Though it did not yield the desirable results, it did help pass the time and eventually the girl warmed up to the others to the point she started referring to some of the others by nicknames, most notably Merana, who she called Mer to the exclusion of using her actual name. Eventually, she stopped trying to correct her.

Leading from the front, Hector scouted ahead, tilting swiveling his head subtly, surveying the land for threats. Merana and Darran brought up the rear. Lenli loaned the man a bow, which was cradled in his lap.

Lost in thought, Merana nearly bumped into the back of the wagon.

“Why are we slowing down?” she asked.

“Rains have turned the roads to mud.” Lenli replied. “Unless-“

“Use your best judgment. I would rather avoid an unnecessary accident.”

Darran exhaled deeply, throwing a glance at Merana, which she did not return, when Hector wheeled around to the others.

“Hang on, we have company,” he said.

Tightening the formation, they proceeded with caution. Horses thundered up the road, spraying mud and water in their wake. Armor glinted in the meager light that broke through the clouds. At the front, the lead chevalier’s face was almost as if it was carved from stone, pale and fierce. Aquamarine eyes focused on the road ahead. Whatever brightness they once held was almost entirely burned away, but still maintained a peculiar intensity.

As they passed, he spared a brief glance, scrutinizing the wagon and those that accompanied it before returning his attention to the road.

“What was that about?” Lenli asked.

“They do seem to be an quite the hurry.” Hector added.

“I wonder what for. Also, why were they this close to the border?”

“Coming from a battle I'd wager. Did you see the scuffs on their armor.”

“Just keep moving,” said Darran. “We want to be as far along as can be in case they decide to come back.” Getting the wagon moving again, Darran maneuvered himself next to Merana. “I knew there were rumors of fighting, but I thought it was limited to the major cities."

“Then perhaps it is for the best that we are leaving the country now,” she answered.

“You smell that?”

“Blood,” Garbune announced. “Smoke, too.” The old man stood precariously on the wagon, staring into the thinning foliage. “There,” he pointed.

Merana and Hector dismounted and crept in the direction Garbune had indicated. Sweat beaded on the back of her neck. The scent was all too familiar, and normally she would have shrugged it off with no trouble, but there was a certain twinge tacked onto it, a trace of another scent that made her blood chill.

The bushes and stubby trees opened into a clearing where more than two dozen corpses, sans their weapons, had been gathered into a pile and set ablaze.

“I guess this is was why they were in a hurry.” Lenli muttered.

“No,” said Merana. “This was just as hurriedly assembled. Something else is going on.”  

“Something that supersedes a brewing civil war, apparently.” Hector quipped.

Darran had his horse circle around, managing to keep the beast from throwing him off as he inspected the site. “We’d best keep moving,” He said. “Someone else will have seen the smoke.”

Passing into Nevarra, they saw no more patrols, though they saw a small number of smoky columns in the distance, which hastened their departure from the country.

A series of storms slowed their progress, forcing them to take shelter in an impression along hills. Even though they lost some time, it gave them and their horses some needed rest. Hector took first watch, standing just at the precipice as mist and spray from the downpour dampened his coat.

Aevra played with some rocks she found while Merana and Darran had readied their fire. She seemed perfectly content to roll them around in her hands, dismissive of everyone else. Merana reassured everyone, as well as herself, that the girl just needed some space while she adjusted.

“Do you think we’ll find anything?” Lenli asked. “When we get there, I mean.”

“I hope so.” Darran replied. “According to my sources, it would’ve happened a few days ago. Maybe there will be some trace when we get there.”

“I hope you aren’t hoping to pick up a scent.” Hector called over. “This rain will have washed most anything that would make a worthwhile trail.”

“Your opinion is very much appreciated, Hector.” Merana growled.

The man simply smiled and turned back out to the rainy night.

The morning dawned with clear skies, even if the early hours left a thick fog blanketing the land. They found the road easily enough and moved at a deliberate pace on the muddy road. Apart from some messengers riding out towards Orlais, the road was largely devoid of any signs of company.

Perendale crept over the horizon, undisturbed. The city spread out before them, reddish buildings and tiled rooftops stood tall and wide streets marked the major thoroughfares through the city and the markets. Darran rode to the edge of the cliff overlooking the city. “Something isn’t right.”

“Maybe your friends were wrong?” Merana suggested.

Just then, a low rumbling intensified into a small earthquake. Some of the towers sank in a plume of dust and debris as the alienage fell into itself and sank into the ground. Calming the horses, they picked up the pace.

The road took a hook to the left, taking them over the ridge before depositing them down the road clinging to the cliffs.

“Whoa.” Lenli said as he surveyed the scene.

“It is like the stories of Arlathan and the Tevinter Imperium,” Merana whispered.

“It looks like your friends were a couple of days off,” said Hector.

“After Andoral’s Reach, I thought it would have happened before we got here,” Darran replied. “But, I guess it’s to be expected from piecing together rumors. Let’s get over there and see what we can find in the rubble.”

 

-¤-  


Sitting the shadows at the top of the bell tower, a lone figure surveyed the sinkhole from above. To his gratitude, the tower survived the minor earthquake, leaving him an excellent vantage point to observe the aftermath. The small, transparent cube he twirled in his hands added to his eyesight, allowing him to spy on the individuals poking through the destruction.

After spending some time watching the crowds of people milling about, he started playing with the smooth, rounded edges of the viewing stone until something in the distance caught his eye.

Most of the traffic coming in was from the south or east, up the main roads, but one group was entering from western gate. Zooming in on the peculiarity, he identified each of the of group’s six members when they stopped after the gate. Two elves, three humans, and a dwarf.

“Well, that is a fascinating group of adventurers to be sure,” he muttered to himself. One individual in particular stood out.

Keeping track of the group, they migrated through the city before they split up. One of the older humans had taken the younger elf girl while the others went to the sinkhole.

“Morsval,” the figure said into the mirror fragment hanging around his neck. “I believe I have found your runaway.”

“Should we deploy to capture?” a voice from the mirror answered.

“No, not yet. Let us see what they find first and let them wander to a more secluded spot before making our move.”

“They?”

“She has some friends with her, and they seem rather interested in our handiwork.”

A long silence hung in the air as his colleague processed the information.

“Do not worry. All of the loose ends will be dealt with soon enough.”

 

-¤-

 

Pushing through the throngs of onlookers, Merana, Darran, Hector, and Lenli got to the edge of the sinkhole. Since it was possible that Aevra was still in danger, they did their best to keep her out of sight before sending her off with Garbune to find lodging.

A handful of people had already made their way into the impression and were already digging into the mess. Merana wondered how many of them were looters, but the thought quickly fell to the back of her mind when Lenli had begun her descent.

While catching up to her, she stopped on a highpoint, overlooking the entirety of the ruins.

“What’s on your mind?” Darran asked.

“Something seems odd about this. The hole seems to have gone down more uniformly than the other one,” Lenli replied.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that this one used more points of contact than the others. The alienage in Andoral’s Reach wasn’t that much smaller than this one, but it folded in on itself whereas this one looks like it fell into the ground all at once. Or was shoved down.”

Merana looked around and noticed what the dwarf was talking about. “So what you’re saying is that that the difference in these cases is that one had a team of decent mages hitting different points at the same time, and the other had one really powerful mage hitting it dead center by himself.”

“Pretty much.”

“I still don’t get how you figured it out,” said Hector.

“Think about it this way: you hold out your hand and you press into it with your one of your fingers, you’ll feel the press at that one point. But if you do the same thing with your fist, the pressure is distributed more evenly.”

“But how does that help us?”

“It tells us that we have at least two groups to worry about, each bringing a considerable amount of weight into any given fight.”

“Let’s just hope that the one who did Andoral’s Reach isn’t with them, whenever they do decide to show up,” Darran said as he descended into the chasm.

While the others moved further down to help with the digging, the all-too-familiar itch of paranoia formed at the back of Merana’s mind.

There were hundreds of people around the sinkhole, and any number of other onlookers observing the scene from the windows. They would have to wrap things up and leave town as soon as possible before the culprits singled them out, if they had not done so already.

Merana slept with one eye open the entire night. She had voiced her concerns to Darran, who volunteered to keep watch, but she was not entirely reassured.

The feeling persisted through the morning, and Merana spent most of the day looking over her shoulder. The sensation was alleviated slightly when they departed Perendale for one of the local mining towns to the north.

After two days of digging had yield no more information than what they had already learned, Garbune had suggested they leave with a caravan at their earliest opportunity.  
Clovasi was several miles away, but in functionality it was essentially the slums of Perendale, with many of the non-criminal undesirables being relocated there after the initial payoff of the mine it was built around became unusable.

The otherwise unremarkable journey was interrupted by a tremor in the ground.

“What is that?” Merana asked.

“Oh, the shaking?” the caravan leader laughed. “That’s rather common around here. We get the rumbling all the time since there’s some volcanic activity down below.”

“And yet you still remain?”

“It was serious enough to close the old mines, but the town’s still safe enough as is.”

“I’ll bet,” Hector muttered.

It was not until they were practically outside the gates before they were able to see the settlement nestled in a canyon that overlooked the plains.

Houses had been formed by either carving holes into the cliffs or using whatever materials that could be scrounged up to build meager houses and shops in the open space in the ravine. It had been remarkable that the periodic tremors had not brought the shoddily constructed parts of the town down.

It was more rundown than Jorrae, but the little village bore much of the same philosophy as the town in the mountains, with all of the different races more or less existing in a semblance of peace.

Without a normal inn to make use of, Darran and the others were placed with one of the locals for the time being, a short elven man known as Mister Welk. After Welk had prepared dinner, he stepped out for a bit while everyone else ate.

“We are out of leads,” Darran stated after they had finished dinner.

“We could try checking back at Perendale again,” Hector suggested. “Maybe there was something we missed there?”

“Until Aevra gets her memories back, I cannot recommend anything that might result in running into the enemy needlessly,” said Merana.

“But staying here poses a similar risk if they caught onto our trail like you suspect.”

“This place is small enough that people would notice someone going around kidnapping people while still being large enough to hide,” said Garbune. “If they are coming after her, we’ll be able to notice them much sooner than if we were in the city.”

“But until the girl gets her memories back, we still have nothing right now.”

“Then we will just have to keep moving then.” Merana concluded. “I recommend another day here before we leave again. What are your thoughts, Trace?”

Darran stared out the window, apparently oblivious to the rest of the conversation he had started.

“Darran?” Hector called over.

His trance was broken and he looked at the rest of his travelling party. After a quick summary, he looked back out the window.

“Merana has a good idea,” Darran said. “But I think we should leave tomorrow morning or noon at the latest.”

“That soon?” Lenli asked.

“If Merana’s instincts are good, we’ve already overstayed our welcome here, but it would be better if we left during the day so as to attract less attention if they are watching the town.”

An uncomfortable silence fell on the room, accentuating the gravity of the situation they were in.

Darran noticed no one was going to speak up and addressed everyone. “Get some sleep. We might have some trouble on our hands soon.”

-¤-

 

Even though the canyon blocked most of it, a fresh northerly wind brought another breath of cold to chill the air. Mister Welk had gotten up early to start breakfast for everyone, cheerily humming a tune while he worked. Around the time they had sat down to eat, the sun was bathing the settlement with its light. As Merana got herself out of bed, the sounds of life in the town grew, people going to work or otherwise starting their day.

But something seemed off.

“What is going on out there?” Merana asked, noting the sudden increase in the number of people walking through the hallways.

“Hey, Welk,” one of the neighbors said as they poked their head in the doorway. “There’s some meeting in the main square.”

“Thank you, Mycah,” Mr. Welk replied, rising to follow his neighbors, and turned to his guests. “You all stay here. It’s probably just the mayor announcing some renovation or something.”

After the door had closed, Merana and Hector moved to the window to see if they had a good view of the assembly.

All of the amassed citizens gathered in front of a wooden platform where a tall armored elf was addressing the crowd, with a contingent of roughly half a dozen similarly equipped warriors stood on the stage behind him.

“Greetings, citizens of Clovasi,” the elf said. “I am Morsval.”

The crowd began murmuring amongst themselves while Morsval continued his speech.

“Recently, a group of travelers arrived in this hidden village of yours. The group consisted of six people; three male humans, two elven women, and a female dwarf. We asked that you turn them over to us, as they are fugitives from the law.”

“They wouldn’t believe that, would they?” asked Darran.

“Who knows?” said Merana. “Just be ready to move.”

“Are they all elves in that contingent down there?” Lenli asked.

Merana did a quick double-take. “It is hard to tell since some of them have helmets on, but the ones that do not certainly are.”

“Look over there,” Hector whispered, pointing to darkened alleyway where a group of cloaked figures stood overlooking the assembly.

“There are probably more elsewhere.”

“I’ll snoop out the ones in hiding,” said Hector, exiting the room and leaping out a nearby window into the streets below.

“Should we be even getting involved here?” Lenli asked.

“If these people are after us, I do not see any alternatives we have.”

“Fine,” the dwarf answered, grabbing her crossbow and a pair of short swords. “Garbune, stay with Aevra.”

“I’ll go with her,” Darran said, following her out the door. “Maybe you can figure out what those Perendale guards are doing here.”

Merana checked out the window again and spotted the company of guards headed towards the center of town.

“This is going to get messy,” she muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Updated as of 19-MAR-2019
> 
> This was where I began introducing new elements into the Dragon Age framework, more of which is revealed in later chapters. As of this point in the story, many of these concepts were incorporated a bit prematurely, which threw the progression and escalation a bit off, making the enemies seem more than a bit OP.
> 
> Aside from this, I think I was drawing influence from Gears of War 2 (among other things) when I came up with the idea of sinking settlements and the like. Additionally, I think this is where the grimdark tone I had planned on using really started to come through, much to the story's detriment. I have since learned from this.


	6. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cornered, Merana and the others make a stand against their mysterious pursuers.

Morsval tried not to show his contempt, as the crowd seemed unable to grasp the simple request or did not care. He had had to deal with some indecision and lack of cooperation from the alienages, but they were far fewer in numbers before.

Here, everyone was either idiotic or apathetic, and so much so that it was maddening. They needed more pressure, and he had already deployed the necessary people for the task.

“We know they are in this city, so until you bring these criminals forward, we have erected a barrier that will confine you to this area until our request is fulfilled.”

While the throngs voiced their anger at him, Morsval noticed a detachment of guards. _They must have been here before the barrier went up._ He thought to himself. It was time to use more assured measures, regardless of whether or not Julios had finished his task.

“You can’t do that to us!” a voice from the crowd shouted.

“I believe you have no choice in the matter,” Morsval answered, donning his helmet and giving the signal to begin the attack.

An explosion ripped through the crowd, and out of the shadows, armored elves began slaughtering the hapless citizens as they tried to flee. Merana and some of the city guards rushed into the massacre, cutting down the assailants as they came across them.

Watching the approaching enemy, Morsval touched the band of a device affixed to his wrist, which then emitted a blue shield, and then drew his sword. Some of the soldiers broke off from murdering the assembled masses to meet the guards. Merana evaded them, charging straight for their commanding officer.

One of the larger guards outpaced the others, parrying Morsval’s sword swing and tackling him. The larger man smashed against the shield, pushing the elf backwards, nearly knocking his weapon from his hand.

The guard looked at the elf’s weapon. It looked more like an oversized knife than a proper sword. “What do you intend to do with such a tiny blade?”

As the elves guarding Morsval attempted to intervene, an arrow found its way the head of one of the ones who had failed to don his helmet in time. The next arrow glanced off of the helmet of the next.

Momentarily deactivating his shield, Morsval allowed the guard the grab him in a bear hug. As quickly as he had deactivated it, he opened the shield again, this time emitting a loud shriek as it cut the guard in two.

With a flick of his wrist, the blade extended, opening up the along the segmented engravings, revealing a haunting orange glow and doubling its length.

Attacking with renewed vigor, Morsval charged back at his enemies, slashing at the nearest guard, cutting cleanly through his armor as if it were made of parchment, distorting the air as it sliced into his flesh. As the guard fell with a contorted look on his face, Morsval turned his attention to Merana.

The first swing cut the top of her shield off, missing Merana’s head by an inch. Watching the severed part of the shield fly off, Merana went to dodging his attacks.

 

-¤-

 

When the sounds of battle ensued, Hector jumped down on his quarries. Taking on a trio of opponents with glee, Hector danced around, slashing and stabbing at joints and breaks that they left in their defenses until they could barely stand, and then finished them off by slashing necks starting under the left ear.

With his initial attackers laying at his feet, another group of elves approached him, one of which had more distinct markings on his helm, identifying him as a higher ranking member.

“You look like you’re a tough opponent,” Hector said, pointing at the leader. “I’ll take you on next.”

“That is a rather confident proclamation,” the leader answered.

“It’s not my best, but who’s going to care when you’re dead,” Hector grinned, pointing his sword at the elf.

The soldiers flanking the captain rushed Hector, meeting him with a storm of blades that Hector blocked or evaded, occasionally countering a strike with a slash of his own. Within minutes, all of the warriors were bleeding on the ground with slashed necks and a number of other wounds.

“You don’t seem very distraught over your subordinates’ deaths,” Hector said smugly, wiping some blood from his brow. “What rank are you anyways?”

“In your words, I guess I would be referred to as a captain. And to your other inquiry, I honestly was not expecting much from them, but they did show me much about your technique.”

“Oh, I have plenty more tricks up my sleeve than what you saw.”

“I can imagine.” The elf tilted his head and smiled, looking at Hector’s weapon. “A seeker of blood and death, and yet you wield a blade with Andrastian philosophy and flowers inscribed into it.”

“You’re not going to run away, are you?”

The sound of a sword being drawn from its sheath answered his question.

“Excellent,” he said as he rushed the Captain.

-¤-

 

Garbune glanced out the window while keeping against wall to reduce his profile to any who might happen to look in his direction. After the explosion ripped through the crowd, Merana and the Perendale guards had engaged the elven warriors in combat.

When the initial confusion had worn off, some of the citizens had begun to turn the tables on their attackers by numbers, but when they started to make progress, a new wave of reinforcements took the field.

Most of the contingent of guards had been decimated rushing the platform, and after engaging leader, it had come down to Merana and maybe two or three guards left to fight him.

From his angle, Merana was holding her own fairly well, even though her shield had been made useless, but her sword was still intact, so she could still defeat him if she did not foolishly sacrifice it.

Hector had disappeared into the alleyways, out of Garbune’s view. Meanwhile, Darran and Lenli had picked off some stragglers and other isolated opponents, trying to avoid tangling with the main force in the town square.

The sound of Aevra’s heavy and erratic breathing distracted Garbune from the battle below, bringing him to her side. As Garbune was working on calming her down, Aevra popped up, nearly head-butting him in the face.

“I remember now,” Aevra said in horror.

“What can you tell me?” Garbune asked.

“It was late at night, like you all said, and I remember seeing who did it.”

“Can you describe him?”

Aevra’s eyes widened and she pointed to the door.

Standing in the doorway was a tall elf with a heavy brown cloak and behind him were two more elves, heavily armored and weapons drawn.

“Hello again,” the cloaked elf said, barely above a whisper, but still carrying across the room.

Garbune grabbed his staff and took a fighting stance.

The elf took a deep breath and threw off the cloak, revealing two gauntleted hands which let off a metallic click as claws extended from the fingertips. “One more fool to rid the world of.”

 

-¤-

 

An explosion rocked the ground, momentarily distracting Merana from the battle, nearly allowing herself to be bisected by Morsval’s glowing sword. Utilizing his momentum, Morsval redirected his attack at the man behind her. The guard who he had stabbed collapsed to the ground in a fit of spasms, screaming in pain.

This time, Merana recognized the familiar sensation of blood magic in use, but unlike the other times she had felt the sensation, it felt subdued, or contained, like something was isolating the effect to a small area around the wound.

Grabbing the falling guard’s sword, Merana moved the sword to block the attack, twirling around her opponent and slashing at his back while his sword was busy cutting through the blade barrowed by Merana.

Changing the direction in the middle of his swing, Morsval cut into Merana’s shoulder, making her wince in pain and lose her balance.

“That’s strange,” the elf said as he approached to finish her off. “All of the others did not hold up anywhere near this level. What makes you special?”

Merana scooted away, readjusting her grip on her sword.

“I guess we will never know,” Morsval said with cold voice and a sadistic smirk.

As the blade came down at her again, Merana met the blow, screaming in fury.

As the two swords met, Merana released a burst of energy, shattering Morsval’s blade. The scattering chunks of glowing sword flew past her, allowing her own sword to bury itself in his torso.

Pulling her sword free, she drove it back into the elf’s chest.

Morsval grunted and coughed out blood as he reached for his killer’s face, but fell to the ground, his armor banging against the granite floor.

Breathing heavily, Merana sank to her knees and inspected her wounds. From what she could see, apart from the wound on her shoulder, she had only suffered minor lacerations, most of which were brought on when the sword exploded in her face.

A wall in the alleyway next to her burst apart with Hector driving his sword through one of the elves’ throats, pinning him against the adjacent wall.

“I was wrong,” Hector said as pulled his sword from his opponent’s throat. “You were hardly worth the effort.” Letting the elf’s battered body slump against the wall, Hector turned to Merana.

“Are you alright?” he asked, pressing his cleaning rag against his mouth.

“Not really.” She replied. “But I can still run if I have to.”

“It looks like you had quite the fight here.” Hector said, looking at the bodies scattered around the town square. “It looks like you took out their leader too.”

“So it would seem,” Merana answered, running her hand through her hair. “Could you grab an item from his left wrist?”

“Taking a trophy?” Hector asked as he moved to fulfill her request.

“No, but it looked like something that we could use and my shield was ruined in the fighting.”

When his initial attempts to remove the item proved futile, Hector sliced the hand from the body.

“That looks nice,” Hector said, pulling the shield device from Morsval’s wrist and handing it to Merana.

As Merana was fitting the device, Darran and Lenli rushed to their companions’ side.

“A bunch of them just broke off from the battle,” Darran said, panting.

Lenli looked at the column of smoke rising from the apartments they were staying. “Wait a minute,” she said, piecing things together in her head. “That explosion was where the others were.”

A trio of elves emerged from the smoke onto the balcony outside Aevra’s room. One had a small figure slung over his shoulder.

“No,” Merana gasped.

The elf carrying Aevra passed her off to one of his companions and turned his gaze towards those gathered below.

“This does not look good,” Darran said, readying himself for another attack.

The elf leapt from building to building, crushing a crystalline shard in each hand, and jumping over the square, drew right hand back like an archer drawing a bowstring, clapped his hands together, and fell to the ground, smashing his right hand against the ground.

Standing up, he looked at the warriors surrounding him, smirking at them as if daring them to attack him. The silence after the impact seemed to go on forever before the ground began to shake beneath their feet.

“Move!” Darran shouted, grabbing Merana and dragging her out of the way of a collapsing building.

Like a shot, the elf took off, jumping on whatever available foothold he found amongst the falling city as he made his way to the edge of the developing sinkhole.

“Curse you, Julios!” Morsval screamed, standing to his feet with Merana’s sword still in his chest.

No sooner had the words left his mouth, a bolt of arcane energy burned through his head, fired from a gauntleted hand from above. As Morsval’s smoldering corpse fell to the ground, Hector pulled Merana’s sword away and rolled to the side to avoid the splitting terrain that swallowed the dead elf’s body.

For the next minute, the air was filled the rumbling of the ground as everyone took shelter under one of the sturdier buildings. Merana narrowly dodged a falling wall, which separated her from the others while the town sank.

When the ground had settled and the dust cleared away, they emerged to find themselves looking up the sides of the sinkhole.

“It looks like we’ll be able to climb out,” Darran said, point at the slope of rubble ascending to the edge of the sinkhole.

The ground began to shake once more.

“We have to find Garbune,” said Lenli.

“We don’t have time!” Hector shouted.

“I don’t care!” Lenli shouted back.

“I’ll find him,” Merana declared, running through the mounds of destroyed homes and businesses.

“By yourself?” Darran asked.

“It will be fine.”

The earthquake had turned the city over and scrambled it around, but the layout was roughly the same. Entering the ruined apartment, she found Garbune leaned against what had been the ceiling, blood dripping from his mouth and other wounds he had suffered.

“I’m glad Lenli thinks of me this highly,” Gabune rasped. “but I think you’re too late.”

“I am here to get you out of here. The place is still collapsing.”

“Don’t worry about me,” the old man coughed. “I suspected something like this might happen, but it’s good you came back. There’s something for you in my coat pocket, it should still be intact.”

Obeying the man’s directions, she retrieved the item in question. The device seemed crude, but also resilient, as its red contents remained undisturbed inside.

“A phylactery?” Merana asked.

Garbune smiled. “Like the ones you used to use to find people like me.”

Merana stared at into Garbune’s watery grey eyes, trying to deflect the notion.

“You don’t have to hide it. I knew it from the moment we met and that burst of energy earlier was unmistakable.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Garbune retorted. “Now go. I don’t know what have planned for Aevra, but you need to save her, and tell Lenli that it was a pleasure working with her.”

A burst of heat hastened Merana’s departure, leaving the old man smiling until he breathed his last. Taking one look down the ravines, she saw lakes of magma rising deep beneath the surface. She could see where the others had gone and tried her best to follow the same route.

As she approached the edge of the sinkhole, the path began to crumble away, leaving her with no way to make it to the top. Another tremor knocked some more rocks loose, getting her higher, but it still left her a couple of meters from the surface when she saw Hector looking over the edge.

“The route we took is gone,” he shouted to the others.

“Take this.” Lenli said, tossing a metal cylinder to Hector. “Put it in the ground and pull the pin, and then get the heck away from it.”

The ensuing explosion caused more rock to slide down, putting her close enough to make a running jump. Climbing over the edge with Hector’s assistance, she caught her breath while sitting on the ground.

“Where’s Garbune,” Lenli asked

“He is not going make it,” Merana answered, wearing an emotionless expression.

Lenli staggered as if hit in the chest, then she began shaking her head. “Don’t lie to me!” she screamed, grabbing Merana’s collar. “Garbune has been through worse than this, survived worse than this, and you just left him behind to die?”

“If he had not convinced me to leave him, I would have tried dragging him out and gotten caught down there with him.”

“Quit giving me that ice queen performance! Tell me this just a joke, and I might forgive you!”

It took Darran and Hector to pry the distraught dwarf from Merana.

“He’s really gone.” Lenli said with tears dripping down her cheeks. “But you found him at least, right?”

“Yes, he wanted me to tell you that it was a pleasure working with you.”

“He did, didn’t he?” Lenli said through sniffling. “That sounds like him.”

“So what do we do now?” Darran asked.

“We get away from this place for now.” said Merana, looking towards the eastern horizon.

 

-¤-

 

The group departed under the watchful eye of Julios, sitting in the cliffs above.

“So you survive once again,” he chuckled as the city was consumed by fire and melted rock. “Good luck trying to convince anyone to help you.”

Pushing the volcanic activity was a nice after-touch to their usual procedure. Anyone who came up to the settlement would have no trails or evidence on much of anything now that it was burned and buried.

Morsval’s mishandling of the situation aside, he was still somewhat irked at the turn of events, but word from the top had informed him that the recruitment process had been concluded and it was time to return home.

As much as he hated leaving the survivors to run free, orders were orders, and they had recovered one of the potentials. Hopefully, this one would prove to be more useful.  
Standing up, he looked down at his escaping prey.

“We will meet again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Updated as of 18-APR-2019.
> 
> At this point, while I had experience in writing fight sequences, I think this was the first serious bit of combat I had written for a story, and also the first one to seriously incorporate the more fantastical elements.


	7. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of disaster, Merana and her allies take time to review, recover, and prepare before they go after the enemy.

Camping that night was somber and cold. With most of their equipment lost in Clovasi’s destruction, they had to make do with what little they could find. Sleep was scarce and what little they did get was fitful and restless, so they stayed around their campfire instead.

“We’re going to take these monsters down, right?” Lenli questioned, finally interrupting their collective silence.

“Is there any alternative?” Merana asked in return. “These people, whoever they are, have abducted who knows how many people, and killed plenty more like we saw today. It is very likely they plan to continue their abominable acts in the near future unless someone does something to stop them.”

Darran threw the woman a look.

“What are we supposed to do with four people?” Hector asked. “We still don’t even know who they are.”

“I think we can piece together enough.”

“Already ahead of you,” said Darran.

The others stared at him as he smirked and continued.

“What we have is an organization comprised solely of elves, at least some of whom are mages who appear to have never been under the oversight of the Chantry or even Tevinter. Furthermore, they are well equipped, carrying technology previously unseen by Thedas. And to top it all off, they appear to be very dedicated to covering their tracks. Using the information we have, we can infer the possibility of an underground elven empire. And I don’t mean the literal kind either.”

“Do you think the Dalish have been working at this the whole time?” Lenli asked.

“Not the Dalish. They’re the type of people who are finely tuned to nature, and none of the people we fought had anything that looked remotely related to the Dalish weaponry. Even their techniques seemed mechanical and alien to anything I’ve ever seen, and it doesn’t appear to be anything descending from Arlathan either, but I’m not sure if that’s a result of it having an entirely different origin, or just being some heavily modified that it no longer resembles anything of the past.”

“How did you come up with that?” Merana asked.

“Pieces gathered, here and there. But the bigger question is where they have been living for all this time.”

Merana pulled out Garbune’s device, holding it up for the others to see. “Perhaps this will help us.”

Lenli stood up to get a closer look at it. “That looks like Garbune’s handiwork, but what is it?”

“It is a phylactery.”

“Oh, that thing. He wanted to make one for himself so that he could disappear when smelled trouble, but not have it take ages for me to find him again. So he actually finished it? He had spent months on that thing, but he wasn’t able to make it work for some reason.”

“Well he apparently finished it,” Hector pointed. “But I thought that was for mages.”

“Then either he figured out how to make it work for us normal folk, or Aevra’s a mage,” Darran said as he stared at the device. “How does it work?”

“He did not say much about it, and it is a bit different from the phylacteries I am used to.”

“Wait a minute. Used to?”

“I am a Templar, or rather, I was a Templar.”

Lenli shifted uneasily, but the others seemingly took the revelation in stride. Darran stroked his chin. "How did a Templar wind up in the middle of nowhere?”

“After the Kirkwall Rebellion, the Templars were in an uproar, eager to annul every Circle as soon as possible, but I couldn’t go along with it. So I ran.”

Hector let out a low whistle.

            “I do not know about the rest of you," she continued, not letting anyone pull anymore on the threads of her past. "But I am going to save Aevra, and put a stop to these fiends before they can harm anyone else.”

“Not without us, you’re not.” said Darran.

“That still doesn’t solve the problem our distinct lack in numbers,” Hector said. “As skilled as we are, they still have an army and what is liable to be a fortress.”

Lenli looked at Hector and smiled. “Give me a little time and access to the resources, and I can give us plenty of stuff to even the playing field, even if it is just the four of us. And since we're in my neck of the woods anyways, I know where we can get it, too.”

“There is also two other factors to consider:” Said Merana. “They have probably never been infiltrated and they have all of those they have abducted being held within reasonable distance to their fortress, possibly even in the fortress itself, meaning we could muster up additional strength once we are inside.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy,” Darran said. He gave the phylactery a hard look. “That thing looks like a compass. Where is it pointing?”

“North.”

“Hmm…depending on how far north it is, I may be able to call in a favor.”

“Very well, then. Lenli, where is our next stop?”

“We’re going to my hometown.”

 

-¤-

 

Mar-Kadek was situated up on a plateau near the base of a mountain four days’ journey from Clovasi. Periodically, Merana checked the phylactery to check its bearing, which began to teeter to the left, but still had a dull glow to it, which meant that Aevra was still alive for the time being.

“So what is this place, Lenli?” Darran asked.

“It’s an old settlement that was built by some surface dwarves who were disgruntled for being banished.”

“It looks like a dump.”

“Don’t worry; it’s not all that bad.”

“Halt!” a voice shouted from the top of the gate. “Who goes there?”

“Until you meet some of the peoplem” Lenli muttered before addressing the guard. “And a fine day to you too, Sobeck,” she cheerily answered.”

“Why did you come back here, you disgrace?”

“Because I missed you,” Lenli said sarcastically.

“Go away! We don’t want you here.”

“I’m not here to cause trouble. My friends and I are just here for supplies.”

“After what you did, do you think we’ll ever let you back in?”

“No, but I thought you would at least allow my friends to do some shopping for me.”

“No can do, Lenli.”

“I’d be sitting outside the city the entire time. Under watch, lock, and key if it makes you happy.”

“No!” Sobeck yelled and left the wall after spitting at Lenli.

“That was a warm welcome,” said Hector.

“Can’t say I blame them,” Lenli replied.

“Why is that?” Merana asked.

Lenli sighed. “They’re pissed off because I was reinventing some of our mining explosives, only when they tested them out, a bunch of miners ended up killing themselves and some other people in the city. So they kicked me out and exiled me.”

“Should we keep going?” Darran asked.

“I don’t know where else to get the supplies I need, so I say we just hold out for the time being. Hopefully someone reasonable is up there.”

Setting up a makeshift camp from discarded materials, the four of them sat outside the gate, periodically receiving an angry glare from the guards, or spit from Sobeck, who kept yelling at them every time he had the opportunity.

The morning was more pleasant, but the gate remained closed.

“We’re losing daylight,” Hector said, watching the shadows slowly shorten with the sun’s ascent.

Lenli threw another rock off the cliff. “If the people running this place are the type I think they are, they’re going to come to us soon.”

“How can you be so certain?” Merana asked.

“Because this place is funny like that.”

Presently, the gates swung upon and an entourage of nobles and guards approached them.

 “My Lord, I cannot-“ Sobeck started, but was cut off by one of the nobles.

“She may have made a mistake that cost us dearly, but since it was not done out of malice, she is still entitled to _some_ rights.”

“Lord Emveran,” Lenli greeted as the entourage stopped in front of them, politely bowing, followed by her friends.

“I’m surprised you even tried to come back here,” Emveran said. “But your exile is absolute; you cannot be allowed back into the city.”

“I wasn’t expecting to be, my Lord.”

“Then what were you expecting?”

“My friends and I are headed north. We need to resupply before we can go on.”

“What in particular do you need?”

“The ingredients to my ‘recipe’.”

A pause told of the dwarf’s discomfort. “What do you intend to do with them?”

“We ran afoul of some powerful enemies, and we need to level the playing field.”

Lenli’s words hung in the air as she stared at the noble.

“And once you have your materials, you will depart once more?”

“As fast as we can.”

Emveran stood up straight and looked and Merana, Darran, and Hector. “We will allow two of your companions to enter,” he said, “but only under guard. Once they have completed their acquisitions, they will be escorted out of the city again.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” Lenli said. “You are most generous.”

Sobeck almost spoke out, but shut his mouth and walked away, unable to object.

"Oh, Lenli. Keep your eyes and ears open. These are dangerous times."

"Aren't they always?"

"More than usual. May the ancestors watch over you."

To this, Lenli only nodded. As promised, Darran and Merana acquired new equipment and the items on a list that Lenli had wrote up and left the city, making camp at nightfall so the dwarf could do her work.

“And you’re sure you won’t blow us up now?” Hector asked.

“I’m sure,” Lenli replied. “I’ve had five years to improve this thing. I was almost finished with it before my banishment. Even though being deprived of the resources that I was used to put me back a few years, I still finished it.”

“Why did you build them in the first place?” Merana asked. “Do the dwarves not already have mining explosives?”

“Yeah, but they’re kind of tricky to use and their effects can be rather lackluster, hence why I redesigned them in the first place.” The dwarf paused to inspect the first of her crafted explosives. “Now, if you don’t mind, I could use some space. Dealing with volatile components here.”

"Sorry."

Giving the dwarf her desired space, plus a bit more, Merana held out her shield arm. The device she had taken from the enemy. She took care to keep it from hitting anything or anyone, all too familiar with the shield's cutting capabilities. Still, she had yet to figure out how to activate it. With Lenli working on her project, Merana figured she would give the tool another try.

She looked over the controls on the device. Flicking one switch, Merana was greeted with silence as the device failed to activate. Flipping another one, she could hear a faint buzz coming from it, but it otherwise remained inert.

"Having trouble?" Hector asked.

Merana gave the swordsman an annoyed look, but then relaxed. It was not his fault that the shield was not working for her.

"Can I see it?"

Removing the bangle, she tossed it the man. "Maybe you can figure it out."

He looked it over, turning it over in his hands "Maybe it was only to be used by its original owner? Or..."

"What?"

"Put it on again and try one of your stances. I have an idea."

Re-affixing the device, Merana held her arm out as if to block an attack.

“Nothing is happening.” She said. “What are you trying to do?”

"I have a theory that it might be connected to your mental state. Now, try focusing as if you were getting ready to block an attack."

Merana frowned. "Nothing."

"Strange."

Hector circled around her, lips twisted as he contemplated his next course of action. Merana almost did not catch that he was drawing his sword until it was nearly too late. Forgetting that she did not have a proper shield, she faced Hector holding up her arm. To her surprise, a blue glow lit the night and the sword bounced off.

Still too surprised at the success, Merana did not counterattack. Meanwhile, Hector was nearly giggling. "Nothing better than a life or death situation for training."

"You could have warned me first." Merana said bitterly.

"I thought I gave you a hint."

"A hint?!"

"I said it might be connected to your mental state, and it responded when you were in danger. Try relaxing."

Glaring at Hector, Merana tried to relax. Before long, the shield flickered out.

"See?" Hector said triumphantly.

"I will concede that you were able to achieve the results," Merana replied. "But remember, next time you try something like this, I will castrate you."

"Of that, I have no doubt." The man chuckled to himself.

Allowing her arm to relax, Merana disengaged the shield. She then fell back into a fighting stance, this time getting instant results.

“I think this will work.”

 

-¤-

 

Watching from a nearby hill, Darran watched their progress. _Hector's going to get himself killed like that_. He thought. _Does he have a death wish?_ Looking back at the campfire, he could see as Lenli finished securing the casing, holding the cylinder in both hands.

"So that's what it's supposed to look like?" Darran asked.

"Actually, this is the way it's supposed to look like for mining purposes. A proper grenade would be more like a ball."

"How many can you make with what we got you?"

"About a couple dozen, I'd say. Maybe a few more."

Hector and Merana rejoined them around the campfire.

"How soon do you think we will be able to leave?" Merana asked.

Lenli looked up from her work. "I would say sometime the day after tomorrow."

"Excellent."

"Now let's give these things a trial run."

Darran's eyes widened. "Here?"

"Why not?" Lenli asked nonchalantly. "We're far enough away that we don't have to worry about blowing up anything important." Seeing her companions' hesitant looks. "Come on. I have to make sure we weren't sold faulty merchandise."

"And if anyone is tailing us?" asked Merana.

"It's not like we've done a good job shaking them in the first place."

Pondering the dwarf's argument, Merana sighed. "Do it quickly."

Lenli picked up one of her bombs and walked always to a cluster of rocks. Setting the device, she primed it and then ran as fast as she could to cover. About a minute later, the rock cluster was enveloped in a blossom of fire, raining bits of stone around the campsite.

Walking back to the camp, Lenli had a smiled across her face. "Will that work for you?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Updated as of 18-APR-2019
> 
> When I was originally writing this, I unintentionally left out some details, specifically regarding Mar-Kadek. According to my notes, it was supposed to be a settlement established by a number of Surfacer dwarves trying to reconnect with some aspects of their culture. If I ever rewrite this story, that will probably be one of the things I fix early on.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merana and the others make contact with Phyren, an old acquaintance of Darran's.

Merana adjusted her cloak, pulling the hood a bit further above her eyes to block out the sun.

After their brief stop, it had not been long before they were crossing into the Anderfels. Since then, the weather had warmed slightly, moreseo the further they moved north. The weeks dragged on as they made their journey north and the green became more sparse, following the phylactery’s guidance.

Slowly but surely, the glow gradually intensified, even if at times it looked no different than before. More than once had they had to make long detours around impassible terrain. Eventually, they found themselves on the vast plains that the Anderfels were known for.

"This place looks lovely," Hector said sarcastically, surveying the barren terrain before them.

Merana agreed with the unspoken sentiment. From their vantage point, nothing but the same featureless locale continued as far as the eye could see.

Behind them, Darran was arranging some accommodations with the caravan preparing to make the journey to the next city. To their collective gratitude, the cooler weather made the negotiations go more smoothly.

"How's the phylactary going?" Lenli asked.

Merana observed the device's readings. "We're still nowhere near where she was taken."

The dwarf pulled her knees to her chest. "Do you think Darran will be able to call in those favors he was talking about?"

"I have not a clue."

Darran rejoined them, nodding back their acknowledgements. "If the person I'm expecting is still there," He said. "Then there is no doubt that it will work out. For now, we just need to focus on getting there."

 

-¤-

The journey across the plains was harsh, though the members of the caravan insisted that it was nothing compared to the summers. Hector made small-talk with some of them, subtly squeezing them for information in addition the conversational fluff.

Two days into their journey, the scouts returned hastily. Before anyone could say anything, a column of dust crossed the landscape alongside them before cutting across the path. Though obscured, the riders could be readily identified as Dalsih scouts.

"Is it common to see Dalish out in these parts?" Hector asked. "There aren't any trees out here."

"Some of the clans have a tradition of wandering these parts," the driver answered.

Merana watched the scouts with interest. "And the horses? I did not think they were typically a part of Dalish culture."

"Guess the harsh lands demanded certain changes. I've heard that Halla don't do well around here."

The riders circled around the caravan at a distance before breaking off and heading west. Another column of dust joined them and then the riders galloped out of sight.

"I don't like it," one of the caravan guards stated. "They keep circling around us like they want something and then disappear again. I'd like it better if they attacked. Then we'd know what they want."

"Maybe they just want to be left alone. Or they think you're intruding upon their territory."

The guard spat. "Dalish don't have territory. They lost land twice. I think that should say enough about how things are. I'm sure plenty of them want revenge over that."

"Why do you say that?"

"Once you seen a Dalish raid, you find yourself seeing things differently. They're so determined to find their lost culture, there's no doubt in my mind that they want to do more than that."

The driver tugged at Merana's sleeve. "Don't listen to him." he whispered. "He's...not all there up there, you hear? Too many blows to the head."

Merana nodded, but her mind turned to their present quest. What would the Dalish do if they found someone championing the elvish cause the way we've been seeing.

Miles and miles stretched on with the occasional collection of hills or a gouge in the earth. Few other creatures were seen, both on the ground and in he skies. One day they had a pair of riders speed past them. The scouts returned days later, still at a distance, never giving any indication as to their purpose or their intent towards the caravaners. On one of the more interesting days, one of the guards swore he saw a dragon among the clouds.

"And why would a dragon be just flying around, Dalder?"

Dalder scowled, but had nothing else to say. His companion grinned triumphantly.

"That's because there's nothing out here. Get a hold of yourself, man."

Despite the other man's jovial laugher rippling across the rest of the caravaners, a sense of foreboding clung in the air. Merana wrapped her cloak around her a little tighter, mainly to cover her left wrist, but at that moment, the wind seemed a bit colder.

It was several more days passed until they finally reached their destination.

Hossberg was settled in a valley of green, a relief after the miles of greyish-brown that they had passed along the way. The city walls ran up the inclines and towers and terraces gave the defenders a good view of the surrounding area. The position indicated a past with dragons, but they had long since fallen into disuse. The Chantry sat on the rise in the middle of town, spires reaching to the sky, statues facing out to Val Royeaux.

"That's quite the impressive city," said Hector. Merana scoffed.

"You must have never been to Val Royeaux."

"Actually, I have. It's just that it seems too...pretty. Too superficial. As far as capitols go, this has more of a rugged beauty. A city that has endured outside invasions, survived multiple attempts at destruction by the darkspawn, endured even dragons, let alone the fact that the city is practically an oasis in an otherwise inhospitable land. I just find the city's determination inspiring."

Arriving at the gates, guards surrounded the caravan for an inspection. The guards poked their heads into each wagon, giving the occupants stern looks.

Lenli glanced at the guards as they finished inspecting their wagon. "Is it me or do they all seem tense?" she whispered.

"I agree," Merana replied. "The way they walk and hold their weapons make it look as if they were expecting a fight"

"What fight, though?"

The guards banged their hand against the last wagon and reassembled to the right, waiting for their commander. Giving a nod to the lead wagon, the guard-captain stepped back

"Continue into the city," he said.

The caravan pulled the market square. Merana and Hector helped unload the cargo

"Thank you for your hospitality," Darran said, offering a slight inclination of his head as they passed.

Setting out into the heart of the city, Merana rested her hand on her sword. Like the guards, Merana could see the fear in the way the citizenry carried themselves and the way their eyes flitted about as if they were expecting an imminent attack, not to mention the sparsely populated streets. Few stores were open without a guard or two posted nearby.

"How's the phylactary?" Darran asked.

Merana pulled surreptitiously pulled the device out when they ducked into a corner. The pulsing, red glow had began more pronounce in minute amounts, but was still far too dull to be close enough, though its point was still pointing steadfastly north.

"If this is correct, we still have a considerable distance to go."

Garbune wouldn't have made a faulty gadget. It's working."

The alleys were quiet, even emptier than the open streets. Darran led them through the city, ducking into the alleys and through major paths, leading to a row of large, monotonous buildings.

“Here we are,” Darran said, stopping at a rather large doorway.

“Who goes there?” a nasally voice said.

“I’m Darran Trace and I’m here to see Phyren Calentus,” Darran answered.

“Should that name mean anything to me?”

“Just tell him,” Darran stressed, allowing an edge of anger creep into his voice.

“I must stress that you in the city at our pleasure and-“

“Tell him that Tracer is here to see him,” Darran growled, shedding his generic Fereldan accent for a very pronounced Tevinter one.

A silence fell on the other side of the door for a few minutes as the people on the other side scrambled on the other side.

“…he will see you right away,” The doorkeeper said, hurriedly opening the door to allow the visitors to enter.

They were led into what might have been a throne room, with thick pillars and elaborate artworks covering the wall. The ceiling sloped upwards the further they went in. At the rise spanning the far end of the room was a tall wooden chair at a desk. Sitting in the chair was an elf with long dark hair leaning his chin on his right pointing and middle finger.

“Well there is face I have not seen in a while,” The elf said with amusement.

“Enough with the pleasantries, Phyren;” Darran retorted. “I’m here to discuss business.”

Phyren sat back in his chair, tenting his fingers in front of his chest. “Then by all means, do so.”

"This would be better if we could arrange a proper meeting."

"And why would I do that?"

“As I recall, you still owe me.”

The elf smiled. “And here I thought you were never going to need that favor.”

“Is that a no, then?”

“I did not say I was never going to repay you. But I had thought that a favor of that magnitude would be unnecessary after you left Tevinter.”

“Things change. Besides, I’m looking for someone. Several someones, as a matter of fact.”

“The great Tracer is having trouble finding someone?” Phyren said with a slight laugh, but stopped when he looked back at his old acquaintance glaring at him. “Is Joseline one of them?” he asked.

Darran stared at the ground. Phyren smiled sadly.

“Then I will help as much as I can. I cannot abandon you after what you did for us. I'll see what I can do for you.”

"Thank you."

"Would you and the pretty one care to join me for dinner. After you've washed up of course. We can discuss the details of your request then."

"I figured you would say as much," Darran replied, then turned to his friends. "Don't worry about us. We'll be back before too long."

Leaving the audience chamber, Lenli gave a side glance to Darran. "Who was he referring to when he said 'pretty'? 'Cause he definitely wasn't talking about me."

"That would be Merana," Darran replied.

"Oh," Hector said with feigned disappointment. "Merana, am I not pretty?"

The elf squinted at her companion. "You're too rugged to be considered pretty."

Hector placed a hand over his heart in mock hurt. "You wound me."

Once they were in the relative privacy of their quarters, Merana began her questions.

“What was that back there?” she began. “And why are you repeatedly being referred to as ‘Tracer’?”

"I, too, would like to know." Hector's tone was less accusative, but just as curious.

Settling down in a couch, Darran sighed. “I suppose I might as well tell you now. I could say it was a nickname from my days in Tevinter, but it would be more appropriate to call it my only name from Tevinter.”

"That explains your accent."

“Darran Trace wasn’t my original name. I…took it back up when I started on this quest of mine. The name I would be normally referred to is Darran Caiden. As for Tracer, well...back when I was in Tevinter, I was a well-known slave-catcher, and I had a knack for tracking down runaways across the country or even into other lands. From some of the minutest scraps of information, I could anticipate their moves before they could ever make them. Because of that, I got the nickname Tracer, which eventually became the only name I was referred to as.”

"Charming."

“All of those days, I felt hollow, like I was missing something. I didn’t find what that was until I met Joseline.” Darran lapsed into nostalgia before continuing the story. “She was a highly regarded slave that was working for my boss. She was dutiful and commanded a good deal of influence for her station, and despite my reputation, I found her to be rather engaging. Before long, I was falling for her. Eventually, there was an earthquake that resulted in the city being damaged and a number of slaves escaping. I got Phyren, Joseline, and several others out of Tevinter, and after covering our tracks and splitting ways, I got as far away from there as I could. And she followed me. Even after all I had done, she still loved me. So, we married and found a small corner of the world to settle in.”

The story end left Merana scowling. "That's a wonderfully romantic tale, but it doesn't change the fact that you were a source of terror for your charges and those you hunted."

"I am aware of that," Darran snapped. "In fact, I've spent most of my life since then looking over my shoulder expecting a knife in the back."

Hector diplomatically stepped between the two. "I believe this is proving counter-productive. While I was hoping for answers, I was not expecting it to jeopardize our mission. For now, can you two cooperate as normal? Whoever our enemy has captured, which includes Aevra I might add, they need us to save them, and their fates could very well depend on this meeting."

Calming herself down, Merana gritted her teeth and prepared to vacate when someone knocked on the door.

A servant poked their head in when Merana opened the door, carrying a package.

"M-my master offers these vestments for this evening." the servant quickly said.

"Thank you." Darran said, as Merana received the package. "Send Phyren our gratitude."

With a quick bow, the girl hastily left.

            Mentally grumbling to herself, Merana opened box and squinted at the contents.

"Well that wasn't what I was expecting."

Darran looked over her shoulder. “I see Phyren still hasn’t changed.”

           

-¤-

 

Darran and Merana climbed the steps to the dining room. Thanks to their host, they had been given clothes suitable for dinner with someone of high standing.

"I cannot believe we're doing this," Merana said, trying to adjust her clothes to where they were comfortable.

"At least gave you something relatively close to your tastes," Darran replied. "He could have had given you a dress. Besides, he's letting us keep our weapons on us. Now keep you chin up. We're here."

The doorman stood up straight, quietly announcing the guests' arrival. "Master Darran and his escort." The doors slid open, ushering the duo inside.

"So I am your escort?" Merana asked.

"Considering that your combative skills," Darran said with a smile. "That would be the best place for you anyways."

"And would he know that?"

"A man of Phyren's position doesn't get their without excellent skills at observation. How else do you think he could have gotten properly fitting clothes for the both of us?"

For a dining area, it was rather small, and empty at that. Phyren stood at the window overlooking the city with his hands clasped behind his back. He looked over his should as his guests entered, practically gliding around the table to meet them.

"Welcome, Darran."

"It's been far too long, my friend."

"I wish it were under better circumstances

Darran shook the man's offered hand, smiling sadly. "Indeed."

Returning the smile, Phyren directed his attention to his other guest. "And what would be your name? I apologize for not asking for it earlier."

"Merana," the ex-Templar replied.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Merana. Please. Have a seat." The other elf helped Merana into her seat despite the scathing look she shot him. Once all were comfortable, Phyren called for dinner. "Now that our immediate business is done with, perhaps we can catch up over dinner."

Smirking, Darran sliced off a piece of roast. "How about you start." He said before plunging the morsel into his mouth. "I mean, you've led a more interesting life than I."

Phyren grinned, but his expression sombered quickly. "Dragons have been seen crossing over the land, headed to parts unknown. Scouts reported that some of the smaller settlements were destroyed."

"The Dragon extinction has been disproven for some time now."

"You misunderstand me. If it were one, it would merely be a cause for alarm. What the scouts have been saying is that entire wings have been seen crossing the plains. Thankfully, they've been largely ignoring us. Additionally, apart from some destroyed towns and villages, the only people who have been killed were those who tried hunting the beasts."

"That sounds fortunate."

"What worries me is what is driving them, and what they are going to do once they resettle. And after that, the Dalish are getting restless, strange folk crossing the borders, both in and out. This whole business with the mages leaves us short on certain assets, which makes taking even one of them down a challenge."

"How are things faring over here?"

"Right now, archers are in a high demand, air defenses are being brought out of storage." Phyren paused to take a sip of wine. "These are dangerous times we're living in."

Darran chuckled. "You say that as if they weren't dangerous in the first place. Our place in the world has always been rather precarious."

"True, but now...now everyone from the common man to kings are in the same boat as us."

"So, how have things been for you, my friend."

"Business has been good. It took a while to get anywhere, but perseverance paid off in the end. And apart from you, I haven't seen any old friends."

"That's good."

"And what happened to you? What happened to that idyllic life you were living?"

Darran bowed his head over clenched hands.

            "They didn't catch up to you, did they?"

"No. This is something entirely different. I would tell you to keep this under wraps, but I fear that doing so may not be an option."

Phyren tensed. "What is happening?"

Taking a deep breath, Darran leaned back in his seat. "We have discovered an organization that has been kidnapping elves en masse. We're headed north to find out where they're hiding."

"Hence why you came to me."

"We're looking at what is liable to be a hidden country. I wouldn't normally ask for help, but we are more than outnumbered here."

Tenting his hands, Phyren stared at the wall in front of him. "I'm sure I can part with some of my soldiers. You can stay here for a few days to rest, if you wish. I will-"

A crash downstairs had everyone reaching for their weapons. Her instincts screaming, Merana eyed everyone in the room. All of them looked as surprised as she was. Still... she thought. She rushed to the door when a scream from the other end of the room. Whipping around, Merana saw a cloaked figure leap through the window, driving a knife into a guard's chest.

Darran slung out his axe and buried it in the assailant's shoulder, pulling the man in to snap his neck. As the assassin fell to the floor, two more swung in. Phyren kicked the chair at the closest one and took up the fallen guard's weapon, parrying the other's sword swing. With the element of surprise lost to both parties, the assassins were quick to pressure the elf back, but that was when Merana asserted her presence.

The unfortunate assassin was in the middle of a swing when he realized his hands were no longer attached to his arms, and after that, he felt the sting of metal cutting into his neck.

As the newly beheaded assassin's flopped against the floor, his partner was cornered by Merana, Darran, and Phyren's guards.

"No more reinforcements?" Darran asked mockingly.

The assassin frown turned into a smirk. "We don't need any more."

The earth began to rumble, shifting and rolling. In the chaos, the assassin sprinted past the stumbling guards, blade raised to slash Phyren's neck. Merana closed in, cutting the man off and driving him back. Rather than remain engaged, he kicked her back and made for the window, rolling out into the night.

"Piss," Merana muttered. She hopped out of the window after her enemy, but when she landed in the courtyard, she found it devoid of anyone living. All the guards had already been dispatched, and her target had disappeared.

Feeling the hairs on her neck stand, Merana sniffed the air and swore under her breath. I know that smell. Pulling her left sleeve back, she readied her shield for whatever she was going to find on the roof.

Precariously balanced at the point of a nearby tower with a clear view of the city, Julios smiled as a ball of energy gathered in his hands.

"You might want to be indoors for this," He said. "Though I doubt it will help you all that much." Reaching his hands to the sky, a ripple of energy washed upward, causing the clouds to broil with arcane forces. Lightning flashed, striking the city and ripping into buildings. Behind it, an orange glow emanated from the clouds as metorites streaked across the night sky.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Updated as of 11-JUN-2019
> 
> In hindsight, Phyren's involvement and contribution to the plot could have been developed a bit more intelligently. However, I was needing to add to the manpower to the crew, and there weren't many viable options other than mercenaries. If I ever get around to properly rewriting this, there'd probably be a few more chapters building up to this section of the story.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> n the midst of an attack on Norbotten, Julios approaches Merana with an offer.

The people who had been drawn outside from the earthquake were met with a brilliant, but horrifying sight. Dancing lights of a hundred meteorites appeared over the city, appearing from seemingly nowhere.

            For a minute, the conjured missiles hung in the sky. Then the lights rained into the capitol of the Anderfels, shattering the tallest towers and rendered entire swaths of the city into rubble. Fires spread out of control as teams of assassins dashed in and out of shadows, striking anyone who tried to mount a proper response.

            Merana could only watch as Julios fell from his perch, gracefully landing in the courtyard in front of her.

            “I hope you are enjoying the show,” he said. He stood casually, his guard lowered.

            “What do you want?” Merana demanded. “Mass kidnappings, attacking this city, why are you doing any of this?”

            Julios smiled. “I am on a mission. Tasked with a noble purpose.”

            “And what would that be?”

            The elf tutted, wagging a finger at her. “Now that would be telling. But I would not be averse to discussing it should you cast your lot in with us. All I am asking now is if you want to join us.”

            Seething at her opponent, Merana held her weapon at the ready, but Julios continued to talk.

            “Think about it. You are an elf, one who has carved her own place in the world, even in the face of institutions naturally hostile towards our kind. But there are those who are not pleased with your bid for freedom, those who would rather see you dead than see you determine your own fate. Why not join the cause of those with similar ambitions?”

            Merana lowered her sword. “You know nothing about me. And I've seen what you do. And I can assure you, I will have no part in that. You can take your offer and be purged in holy flames.”

            “That is unfortunate,” Julios sighed. “But I supposed it is to be expected. You were thoroughly indoctrinated after all. I guess the rest of my offers and temptations are meaningless in the face of that.”

            He turned to walk away, leaving his back completely open. Taking a chance, Merana charged Julios. Whipping around, he deflected her sword strike and lashed out with his armored hand. A flash of blue signaled the shield activating in her defense.

            “So you _did_ get it to work,” he said, pushing back with a shout of exhilaration. “You are truly one of us if you were able to make it obey your command in such a short time. It is a shame that you rejected my offer.”

            “Shut up!”

            Merana projected a magical suppression field, but her sword still bit at Julios' gauntlets.

            Julios laughed as he continued deflecting Merana's attacks. “You didn't think that it would be that easy, did you?”

            He led her in circles around the courtyard. Every swing was parried, every strike blocked.

            “I can stop holding back if you want,” he said mockingly.

            At first, Merana had to keep herself from flinching, but then she smiled and charged Julios.

            “Should I count that as a 'yes'?”

            His boasting was interrupted as he wheeled around to counter Hector's attempt at slicing the back of his neck.

            “You don't mind if I cut in, do you?” the swordsman asked.

            Julios smirked. “If it pleases you, be my guest. It ultimately changes nothing.”

            “We'll see about that.”

            Rolling out of the way, Julios tried to keep both of his opponents on one side. To his amusement, they both did well to prevent that. They worked well in tandem, conserving their energy while forcing him to weather their assaults.

            “It's good that neither of you are strangers to fighting,” he shouted over the clanging of metal. “Otherwise, I fear this would be quite boring. However, I must be going. So how about a trick before I depart?”

            Not waiting for an answer, he slammed his palm against the ground. The surface broke up and split, falling into the cavern below. Though shallow enough, Merana wagered she and Hector would be feeling bruises from the fall. Both of them hid from Julios' view, bracing for a final blow that never came.

            “I suppose I will see you before too long,” Julios said dismissively. “In the meantime, I'll let you work at climbing out of this pit.” Drawing his hands together, the hole closed over with only minimal holes for air.

            No longer in the presence of enemies, Hector collapsed to one knee, bracing himself on his sword. Feeling along the walls, Merana searched for a way out. Her eyes helped in most low light situations, but she could not see in near complete darkness. In short order, her hand caught on a fixture. Though relieved, she grunted her disapproval.

            “You find anything?” Hector asked, his voice haggard.

            “I found a torch, but there's no way to light it.”

            “Bring it over here.” Merana could hear him fiddling with his pockets. “Aha!” he said triumphantly. A scratching was heard and sparks flew into the torch, igniting it. Though meager, it gave the two of them a better view of their surroundings. "Now, to get out of here."

            Their search was short, but when they tried the door, it was locked from the outside.

            "A lock shouldn't be an issue." Merana said, wedging her blade through the planks of the door. Prying it open, what elation they had to their success faded when they saw the tunnel caved in.

            “Now what?”

Sighing, Merana returned to the center of the room. Climbing the rubble, she held the torch to the hastily formed roof. Even without prodding, she could see that it was sturdy. “We wait.” She finally said.

“I'll find more torches.”

Getting a better look at her surroundings, Merana wagered they had landed in a storeroom for the main house. Sealed barrels were placed along the edges of the room. From the smell, she determined that there was nothing of sustenance to be had. Completing his search, Hector joined her with five more unlit torches.

“How long until you think they'll find us?” Hector asked, resting against a stone slab.

“If we keep talking, and if the surface is irregular enough, before we get too thirsty.”

Pulling cloth from his coat, Hector cleaned his sword before a fit of coughing overtook him. He pulled the cloth from his mouth, covered with fresh blood. His blood.

            After Hector finished his cleaning ritual, Merana inspected him for any wounds.

            “What happened to you?” she asked. “You don't appear to be severely injured.”

Grunting, Hector slid to sit down. “The healer said I had at least two more months, but I don’t want to wait that long for death to come claim me.” Hector said with a chuckle. “So much for being able to heal.”

            “You’re…dying?”

            “Yup,” Hector replied, rising to his feet and stretching.

            “Did you even look for anyone else to help you?”

            “No. I’d much rather spend the rest of my days fighting than looking for a way to prolong my life that may or may not exist in the first place.”

            “A rather bleak outlook if you ask me.”

            “Not that it really matters. There’s no one left alive who really even cares that I existed anyways.”

“Is there really no one?”

“My village was more or less wiped out when they decided to oppose the Hero of Ferelden. And I didn’t make many friends after I left. Any that are still alive, that is.”

“Would you mind telling me about it?”

"Are you sure? It's a bit of a sob story."

"I can hardly imagine what else we could possibly talk about."

            “Actually, there’s not much to tell in the first place. I was born in the village of Haven and brought up by Andraste cultists. When Jarrod Cousland walked into the city looking for the Ashes of Andraste, everyone attacked, and not one who stood against him survived. With no one else there I left, grabbing a sword and some meager provisions and starting walking the land. Never looked back really.”

            “Seems like a rather simple story.”

            “A simple story for a simple life. A short life.”

            “And that was why you wanted to help us?”

            “Yes.”

            "So you met the Hero of Fereldan?"

            "It wasn't much of a meeting. He walked up to me, asked a few questions and what I said tipped him off to some of the other happenings in the village."

            "Do you hate him?"

            "No. Or at least, not anymore. It took me a few years to come to that conclusion. Especially after I learned of what all else he did."

            Merana digested his words.

            "Enough about me. Mind telling me about yourself?"

            Seating herself opposite of Hector, she gave him a hard look. "Since we're stuck here and you're in a story-sharing mood, I don't see why not."

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to convey the story. “I originally joined the Templars after seeing my older sister taken away and found that my sister had failed her Harrowing. I later learned that my younger sister was discovered to be a mage, but since she was moved to a circle far from my posting, there was no way for me to ever see her.”

She closed her eyes, images of the past flickering on the back of the lids.

“One day, I received orders to go and hunt down my little sister, who had run away from the Circle. Since I was an elf in the Order with sisters who were mages, I am certain someone had brought me along in order to test my loyalty and dedication.” She paused, gritting her teeth. “As we tracked her down, we began to see more and more destruction left in her wake. Then we started seeing other people besides Templars among the dead. By the time we had caught up with her, the body count was in the hundreds.”

“Maker…”

“We confronted her in a backwater village, and the moment I saw her, I knew what had happened to her. Afraid for her life, a demon had taken advantage of her fragile state of mind and turned her into an abomination.”

Staring blankly at the wall, her mind replayed the scene in her mind as she told the story.

“The battle was ferocious. The demon had enthralled all of the villagers and threw them at us while it waited in the back and picked some of us off. By the end of it, it was just me and one other Templar facing the…thing that had been my sister, and after he was severely wounded, I had to finish her off myself.”

Pausing to force the guilt back down, she continued.

 “It was not the fact that I had to kill her that shook me, but when Kerine hugged me after I had run her through, she thanked me. It was her voice; her words, and not those of an abomination.”

With effort, she reeled herself back into the present.

            “After that, I pretty much gave up all hope of changing things. I tried to be decent to my charges, but I was often reprimanded for being too soft. At some point I stopped caring and began looking for an escape. Of course, it's not easy to leave an order of misguided fanatics. But as soon as the news of the Kirkwall Rebellion broke, it wasn't long before the confusion became so great that I could slip away. I have no idea if they ever sent anyone after me, but I stayed away from major cities regardless, kept moving from place to place. Then I got hired by Darran and now we're here.”

            Hector pursed his lips.

            “That's quite the tale,” he said after a long pause. “Also, you sound different when you’re not trying to sound like a Templar. It’s actually sort of adorable.”

            Weathering a stern look from the elf, Hector raised his hands.

            “You can forget I said that if you like,” he chuckled.

            Any further discussion was cut off by a thud against the ground above them. They both cleared area directly underneath, eager for the excavation. A few more impacts and a sizeable hole opened, causing more chunks to fall around the digging. Some shouts of surprise were heard from the diggers before they resumed their work.

            “Anyone down there?” Lenli called.

            “Yes,” Hector answered. “We're down here.”

            “Is that you Hector?”

            “And Merana.”

            “Oh, good,” the dwarf said, relieved. “Darran, there down here.”

            In short order, Darran's familiar visage peered into the cavern.

            “Are the two of you in good health?” he asked.

            “That depends,” Hector shot back.

            Darran looked at the both of them, confused.

            “Nothing immediately pressing,” Merana added. “Can you get us out of here?”

            “Certainly,” Darran replied.

            A rope was soon lowered into the gap.

            “You go first,” said Merana.

            Hector opened his mouth, either to protest or make a joke, but thought better of it at the last moment. Under better light, Merana realized how dusty the two of them were.

            “I suppose those clothes will not be reused,” Phyren joked, when he saw Merana pulled from the storeroom.

            “I did not really care too much for them in the first place,” Merana replied, enjoying a moment of levity. Her expression turned grim, observing the damage and carnage wrought. “What happened during the attack? I was not able to see much, but it seemed grander than a simple assassination attempt.”

            “After the meteor shower, the intruders began withdrawing. Any attempts to pursue them have fallen flat, as there was no trace left behind. When we were finally able to get things under control, we noticed that you were nowhere to be found and mounted a search party. To our immense gratitude, the search was quite short. I shudder to think what it would have been if you had gone missing outside my estate.”

            “I am grateful as well. Hector and I had run out of conversation just before you arrived.”

            Hector let out a laugh. “If you wished, I could have continued talking for much longer than that.”

            Smirking, Phyren pulled Darran away from the growing verbal spar. “After this, what do you plan to do?” he asked.

            “We keep moving forward,” Darran replied after a pause. “The fact that they came after us like this means they know we're on their trail.”

            “I see. How soon do you wish to depart?”

            “The sooner we can leave, the better.”

            “Day after tomorrow, then?” Phyren offered. “After a mess like this, that would be the earliest I could muster an appreciable force to accompany you. And you still need some rest, especially after a scuffle like that.”

            “We've had worse. As soon as your men are ready, we'll resume our journey.”

            “I don't know how much it will help you, but good luck. I hope you find Josi and put and stop to all this.”

            Smoke rose from the buildings around them. For the first time in a long while, Darran found himself admiring the results of such a display of magic. He wondered how anyone could rein or counter such a force. He bit his lip. _This is what Merana dealt with on a regular basis._

 _“_ I doubt you'll be able to find us if we fail,” Darran said. "But should we fail to return, make sure someone knows what we're dealing with.”

            “I can't guarantee anyone important will listen to me, but I will see what I can do.”

                       

-¤-

 

 

            Finding herself with nothing else to do, Merana inspected the corpses of the assassins they had killed. To her utter lack of surprise, all of them were elves. One of them had Dalish tattoos. _Blood writing,_ she corrected herself. The other was thinner and paler. His build was more like a farmer than a soldier. How both of them were able to overpower nearly an entire security detail eluded her.

            She supposed that surprise had been a factor, but both had moved as someone with years of training could only move. The main reason their attempt had failed had been because of Merana and Darran. The guards might have lived, but Phyren would have been killed otherwise. Again, it stood to reason that the Dalish elf could have pulled off some of those moves, but not plain city elf. Not without years of training. Inevitably, she remembered Aevra and the other inciting figure in the quest.

            “Find anything useful?” Hector asked.

            “I thought you were supposed to be resting?” Merana replied.

            “Got bored. Besides, it's not like I'm trying to dig up the mansion with everyone else.”

            At Merana's insistence, Hector had been essentially ordered to rest, which no one had objected to, while Darran and Lenli were busy clearing away rubble in order to retrieve their gear. The lack of explosions, to their collective relief, meant that the bombs were undisturbed. When they reached the cavity that had been their quarters, Merana had quickly changed back into her travel clothes.

            “Since you're here, what do you make of this?”

            “The Dalish?”

            Merana nodded.

            “Well, I think he's the first one we've encountered like this. If he's not simply an exile, I have to wonder how these people are capturing clans.”

            “I was thinking the same.”

            A long pause passed between them.

            Scratching her neck, Merana exhaled sharply. “The biggest question now is how long has this been going on?”

            “I suppose we'll have to ask them when we catch them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: (Updated as of 18-SEP-2019)
> 
> I think this is the most effort I’ve allowed myself to put into revising a chapter of this story since I've started cross-posting. Seriously, I have no idea how I made some many errors (then again, most of this was written whilst near-chronically sleep-deprived). 
> 
> So, I revealed Merana’s background here, along with Hector's ties to the plot of DA:O. In hindsight, I probably should have toned down the angst and the walls of text, but that's something I have hopefully rectified to a degree as time has gone on.


	10. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While traveling across the Anderfels, strange happenings are afoot.

Another morning dawned over Hossberg. Smoke trails marked where fires still smoldered among the ruins left behind. Looking out the window, Merana could see the increased patrols. What few people she had seen before, what little life the streets had held was now absent. Few had even dared to brave the streets since the attack.

“How are things going over here?” Hector asked. His demeanor had improved after a good night’s rest, but most everyone else had kept one eye open, and as a result, were somewhat cranky.

“Good morning,” Lenli said. “And as to the state of our equipment, I managed to recover everything, or replace everything that I couldn't. It would have been faster if you hadn't let half the stuff get buried.”

“I heard the sounds of battle. What would you have expected me to do?”

“What if it had been my pack, idiot? I doubt anyone here would have appreciated being blown to the void because you got distracted.”

Hector smirked. “I like to think I have a good instinct in regards to danger. After all, we all remain with our persons intact.”

Lenli snorted, muttering something about stupid humans.

“All is well, I take it,” Darran said, entering the room with Phyren at his heels.

His question was met with an assortment of nods and confirmations.

“Good. Thanks to Phyren's contacts, we have horses and some extra muscle as we continue north.”

“Since you will be here one more night, would you care to join me for dinner? I do recall we were rudely interrupted last time.”

“Are the rest of us invited?”

“In the interest of both security and courtesy, yes, you are all invited.”

Unlike the night before, the tension could be felt in the atmosphere outside, but the mood around the table was jovial by comparison. For a moment, Merana wondered if the events from the previous night was a bad dream.

 

-¤-

 

In front of the mansion, the expedition rallied for their journey. Thanks to the efforts of the clearing crews, they had made a path out of the city. The horses were laden with the necessary equipment for a trip north and the men gripping the reins in anticipation.

Phyren emerged from his estate, flanked by servants carrying packages.

“This was left here this morning. I assume someone found out that we were going after the culprits of the attack.”

It was not much, but the intent and hidden message were clear. “Much appreciated.”

Darran said, accepting the package. The rest was distributed among the other horses.

Merana smiled.  All in all, Phyren had proven to be a great asset in their quest, though she was sure to avoid mentioning it to the man's face. Darran, on the other hand,

“All set?” he asked. When there was no response he nodded. “Then let's move out.”

Taking the road to the northeast, the group made their way to Kassel. Along the way, Merana would discretely glance at the phylactery. The point gradually tilted to the left. By the time they had arrived at their next destination, it pointed in roughly a northwesterly direction

As the group dismounted, the captain issued out orders.

“We have a long journey ahead of us yet. Get some food and rest, and stay sober, men. We need to be away with the dawn.”

Receiving disappointed consent, the captain dismissed them.

Looking around, Merana felt a great unease. She could feel eyes on her, though she could not see who was watching. The hair on the back of her neck stood on ends and she could feel the bumps on her arms rising.

There she was again. Her sister was staring at her, a single point of calm a constantly shifting crowd. Merana could not understand how someone covered in so much blood could go unnoticed.

A hand landed on Merana's shoulder, causing her to flinch and wheel around. Seeing Hector's concerned eyes halted any further public disturbance. Looking back at that spot, her sister was gone.

“Are you alright, Merana?” Hector asked.

“Yes,” she replied. “I am…I’m fine.”

 

-¤-

 

Rising with the crack of dawn, camp was hastily broken and breakfast consumed along the way. Once they were underway, Darran called the former Templar up.

“Merana, you take the lead.”

Taking her place at the front of the column, Merana held the phylactery out, just out of sight of their traveling companions. She looked one last time over her shoulder, wondering if should would if she would see it again.

Journeying north carried them across much of the same dreary terrain that made up the Anderfels. Dust storms were becoming more common, becoming more intense and frequently with every passing day. Venturing to the east, they hoped to find some relief offered by the seas.

“What are _they_ doing?” one of the mercenaries asked.

Darran looked in the direction the man was pointing.

”The Dalish riders?” Darran started. “They have been getting closer than they have in the past, haven't they.”

“What do you suppose they're after?” The man asked, who Darran remembered was named Judel.

“Has anyone else had them follow like this?”

“Not that I'm aware of.”

Scratching his chin, Darran watched the scouts vanish into a cloud of dust.

“It's going to be dark soon,” he said to the captain. “We should set camp before it gets too late.”

“As you wish, sir.”

While they set up camp, Lenli made her presence known working next to Merana. She began with idle chatter, but when it seemed that there were no-one eavesdropping, she got down to business, taking care to keep her voice low.

“I hate having to say it,” she said. “But I think their interest might be with one of us.”

“Why would you say that?” Merana asked.

“We've seen them several times since we got to Anderfels, but no one else has seen much of them for the past years.”

Merana made a quick check over her shoulder. “You heard that, too?”

“I'm talking about it, so yeah.”

“Did Garbune ever have dealings with the Dalish?”

“No, we avoided each other. He could have had some business with them when he was a part of the Circle, but I wouldn't know anything about that.”

“I wonder if the phylactery might have been something of theirs.”

“No, I saw the schematics he had written up about that. The notation was in his hand. If he stole if from anywhere, it would have been from the Templars.”

Racking her brain, Merana perused for any theory that could explain their silent escorts.

“Do you think you had any business with someone who might have taken something from the Dalish?”

“Again, I haven't got any ideas about that.”

 

-¤-

 

“Now that is a sight you don't see every day.”

Crossing the lands was a large collection of dragon creatures headed eastward. The drakes stalked on, corralling the younglings into the middle of the formation. Humans marched alongside the beasts without a shred of fear, even as the elder, wingless males snapped at the interlopers. Noting the unwanted presence, a group of humans broke off to confront them.

 “Let me handle this,” said Darran, pushing forward. “Stay sharp.”

The leader was muscular, but thin, standing in such a manner that even though he was shorter, looked down on them. His skin was marked with burns, long since healed, but no less noticeable. His vestments looked like mixture of warrior and priest, a staff in one hand and an axe resting on his back.

“Hail, travelers. I am Ven.”

“Greetings, Master Ven. I am Hector. What brings you and yours out this far from the mountain homes?”

“A gathering has been called. Such has not happened since mortals thought to count the days.” Pausing, Ven gave Hector an appraising glance. “Why does a brother travel with such heathens?”

Hector grimaced. “My clan was destroyed long ago. I have wandered ever since.”

“What waylays you now, child? Certainly there is nothing keeping you at this time.”

“At this time, I am accompanying these people on a quest.”

Ven grimaced. “That...is a shame.” He schooled his features. “Should your mind change, we would welcome you with open arms. However, do not tarry too long, for the door is soon closing.”

Overhead, a number of females swooped around, circling the formation before continuing on. Two of them were substantially larger compared to their kin. They gave those below irritated glares, but otherwise left everyone alone.

“What is your purpose?”

“Would that you become one of us, then it will be seen that you are properly instructed. Until then, you are all considered outsiders.”

Giving his impromptu audience a quick smirk, Ven led his band back to the heard as it was disappearing behind a dune. Stopping at the next crest, he turned to look back. “Repent, and you may yet be spared. No matter what else, the end will come!” With a last shout, he followed his people out of view.

Left with the trails of dozens of dragons and their followers, the expedition rallied together. Most were quickly abuzz with talk of the odd crossing. Darran did not bother picking out the individual discussions, zeroing in on Hector as he talked with Merana.

“Who were those people?” Merana asked. “And why did they keep referring to you as brother?”

“You remember my village right?” Hector replied.

“The one that was wiped out by the Hero of Fereldan? Yes.”

“Well, they were dragon cultists. I never had the opportunity to go through the final ritual because of my age, but I still had more than a few generations of my ancestors that did. I guess enough passed on to me.” He paused and gazed where the cultists and their dragons had vanished.

“Dragons.” “Never thought I'd see one of their kind in my lifetime.”

“I thought most dragon cultists kept themselves in isolation,” Darran pondered aloud. “What are they doing wandering out in the open?”

”Something about a gathering," Hector replied. “I don't like all that 'end of the world' talk he was going about.”

“Probably full of it anyways.”

“What's this about the Hero of Fereldan wiping out a village?”

The other mercenaries took notice of the conversation.

“I always thought he was a paragon of justice and whatnot,” one said.

“He is,” Hector replied. “It's just that everyone attacked him. They were difficult people.”

“Was.”

“Hm?”

“The Hero's been missing for a few years now. Cousin of mine got asked about him, but not even whisper to be had on his whereabouts.”

“I heard he was seduced by a witch and kidnapped,” one piped.

“No, he's just travelling for the Wardens,” said another.

“Then why don't they know where he is?” He his friend replied. “It's not like he can hide very well.”

“Maybe he's on a secret mission,” another offered.

Another round of debate erupted, but the discussion soon turned back to what they had just seen.

“Two of those were high dragons!” a guard shrieked.

Watching as the mercenaries made themselves look silly, Merana approached Hector with her own thoughts on the matter.

“I thought these people preferred isolation,” she wondered aloud. “Namely in the mountains.”

“Normally, yes. Granted, my knowledge is quite limited, but I have never heard of any gathering ever happening. I never heard of any other conclave even communicating with one another, much less any legends of a gathering that necessitating a mass migration.”

Merana frowned as she looked in the direction Ven and his people had gone.

 

-¤-

 

Arriving in Tallo, Merana gave the phylactery another discrete glance. The point had traveled to a north-westerly direction. It would not be long before they would have to head straight for their objective instead of skirting around the northern wastes.

Darran and Captain Wergotte went about their routine of finding lodging and reminding the mercenaries and other followers not to get too drunk.

Merana scooted into the bar and was beginning to order a drink when her sister sat next to her.

Leaping from her stool, Merana glared at the phantom.

“Stop bothering me.” she barked.

Seeing the eyes following her, she quickly vacated the room. Slipping out of sight, she pulled out a vial of lyrium, gulping down the contents as quickly as possible. Feeling the buzz fade, she slouched against the wall. “I'm too young to be seeing that sort of thing.”

“What sort of things?” Hector asked.

Merana jumped, hastily stowing away the empty bottle.

“You really need to stop doing that,” she growled.

“Apparently. What's troubling you?”

Sighing, Merana scooted back up. “I'm seeing things. Things that I know aren't there.”

“I take it that this isn't a normal occurrence for someone in your position.”

“Templars use this in order to use our powers, or so I heard. I wouldn't be the first to suspect that we're started on it just to keep us in line.” Holding the vial out, she looked at the traces of liquid gold. “Anyways, one of the side-effects is hallucinations. Though, typically that isn't until later in a Templar's life.”

“I think that may be less to do with you being a Templar and more with you being filled with regrets.”

“I don't really have a shortage of those.”

"I know. I'm all too familiar with that. It makes it easy to see it in others."

“Even so, while’s it’s possible, it would also be unlikely.” Merana looked up at Hector. “Do you think about the people from your home?”

“All the time.”

“How do you deal with it?”

“You learn to accept it.”

“That sounds too easy.”

“The simplest solutions typically are. The hard part about them is getting yourself to go through with it.”

Pulling out the empty bottle, Merana ran her finger along the side. Hector patted her on the shoulder and offered his hand to help her back to her feet.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Updated as of 18-SEP-2019
> 
> Alright, the plot's picking up again, with some more references to what may or may not have happened in my playthrough for Origins. And we get introduced to a faction that has yet to reappear in later chapters (and probably won't for some time).
> 
> Notable Edits: fixed the part of the chapter where I apparently forgot to finish a sentence before moving on the next paragraph.
> 
> Side Note: Ven means "wind". Not sure why I picked the name except I think I had been playing Birth By Sleep at the time when I was writing this.


	11. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The closer they get to their goal, the more the mysteries, and the dangers, continue to mount.

Even in her time as a Templar, Merana had never been able to sleep very well. Being on the run hadn't helped, and being chased by a nebulous group had made things worse. When she woke up about an hour before dawn, she got up and ready.

Descending back into the dining area, she found it nearly empty. Other, more nocturnal people were milling about. Some guards were present as well, keeping an eye on the owners possessions.

            Merana gave them a quick acknowledging nod and stepped onto the porch for some morning air. Pacing on the porch, she took deep, steady breaths to calm herself. The exercise was rendered moot when she found a carving on the posts. Having a vague recollection of the Elvish language, she was able to identify the markings, even if she could not determine the meaning of them.

            Rushing back into the building, she approached the guards.

            “Did you see anyone come up here in the night?” she frantically asked.

            “No.”

            Holding back a curse, Merana ran upstairs into Darran's room, not flinching when he pulled a knife from under his pillow. Seeing who had disturbed his rest, he relaxed and sheathed the blade.

            “What is it?” he groggily asked.

            “We have a problem,” She said.

            “There are plenty of things that have given us cause for concern. You might want to be more specific.”

            “Some elves snuck up last night and marked the building. I couldn't understand what they wrote, but nobody downstairs saw them come or go.”

            “You think it was the Dalish?”

            “It would be too much of a coincidence for the inn we're staying at to be marked the same night we arrive.”

            Darran ran his hands through his hair. “Surely there could be other reasons.”

            “The Alienage here was hit some time ago,” Hector said, walking into the room. “If there were any elves in the city, I can't imagine them hitting a random inn.”

            With a sigh, Darran stood up. “I will speak with the captain and get us ready to depart.”

            As the two men left, Merana's gaze was captivated by a figure standing on the roof of the adjacent building. He wore a heavy looking cloak that covered his ankles and billowed in the wind. Straining her eyes, Merana thought she could see a faint orange glow under the cover of his hood.

            “Merana?” Hector called from the door. “You alright in there?”

            Merana glanced over her shoulder.

            “I'm fine,” she replied.

            In the moment that Merana took to look away, the figure had disappeared.

            Frowning, she went downstairs to join the others.

 

-¤-

 

            Taking her place at the front of the formation, Merana took out the phylactery and conferred with Darran.

            “I think we have done enough skirting,” Merana said. "Do you think we can manage a straight shot?"

            Darran nodded. “At this point, I think we will have avoid the worst of the wastes.”

            As Darran and captain relayed the message to the rest of the company, Merana took up the reins to her horse and guided him in the direction the phylactery.

            The days passed as they traversed dune after dune. Water consumption was carefully paced. Before the week had come to a close, a mountain began creeping up the horizon.

            “That's the western wall of Tallo's Eye,” the captain announced.

            “It's so quiet out here,” Judel said. “Not a sight nor sound of bird for days.”

            Frowning, Darran rode up alongside Merana.

“How does it look?” he asked.

            “We are close.” Merana said, looking at the phylactery.

            “Hmm...”

            “Do you think they’re in Tallo’s Eye?”

            “I can't see how they could hide that well. It's not like the location is unknown. Even as big as the basin is, the floor is flat as can be.”

            “We have seen them sink small settlements, and that is just one or a dozen of them. Is it so much a stretch that a city of them could possess the means to hide themselves in a deserted plain?”

            “But how would they do that?”

            “I have no idea. But there a few ways of finding out.” Turning around she found Captain Wergotte. “What is the closest entrance into Tallo's Eye?”

            “About a day's march, I'd wager,” he replied. “What do you have in mind?”

            “I think we might be able to eliminate some potential hiding spots.”

            The depression in the center was barren of anything that might have resembled a fortress or city.

            “There’s nothing here,” Judel muttered.

            “Hector, follow me,” Merana said, riding in front of the group. “The rest of you, wait here for a minute.”

            Dismounting, she handed her reins to Hector and walked a bit further. She began pulsing her powers. Even though it would be nothing close to being able to unveil everything in sight, she had hoped that she would dispel any illusions in the immediate vicinity.

“If that's the most you can do at a time, it will take years before we find anything.”

            Merana pulled out the phylactery again, which now glowed even brighter.

            “That won't be necessary.”

            “Then what was that about?”

            “Working out a theory. We follow the phylactery as before, but now I have to periodically to make sure we aren't tangled in some sort of illusion. Were the horses affected?”

            “A bit antsy, but otherwise no.”

            “Good. Signal the others forward.”

 

-¤-

           

            Marching across the plains, Merana slowly led the everyone forward, pulsing at irregular intervals. At first the others were tense, but decided to ignore it. As sun began to set, Merana signaled the others to stop. The point on the phylactery had shifted back into the direction they had come.

            “They are underneath us,” Merana declared.

            “Like dwarves?” Lenli asked.

            “Of course!” Hector said, smacking his head against his forehead.  “There were rumors going around that someone had found an underground elven city in the Brecilian forest.”

            Wergotte pinched the side of his mouth with his teeth. “Then we need to find a way down.”

            Lenli looked pleased. “Look for caves around the base of the walls. Maybe we'll get lucky.”

            “How are we going to find anything over such a large place?” Judel asked.

            “We'll make camp under the cover of the mountains and work out something along the way.”

            To everyone's gratitude, they had not traveled far into the Eye and the easily found a place to camp for the night.

            “I'll take first watch,” Merana offered.

            One of the mercenaries stepped forward. “Hold up,” he said. “I'm not inclined to leave our guard to a lone elf.”

            “I was just about to asked for more volunteers,” said Wergotte. “I'm glad you're offering to help, Morren.”

            Morren tried to hide his disappointment, but let off all his gear save for his weapons and stalked to the southern edge of camp.

            As Merana left to find her own place to take watch, Hector sauntered behind her.

            “Mind if I join you?” he asked.

            Thinking for a moment, Merana inclined her head to a vantage point, allowing Hector to fall in behind her.

            As the sun disappeared over the horizon, the clouds and moonlight played with the scenery below them. Merana made around her perimeter of the camp when she saw the cloaked figure, perched on a cliff that would have been impossible to climb for any normal person.

            “Do you see that, Hector?” Merana asked.

            “What?”

            “That man over on the rocks.” She pointed at the figure, who was staring back at her, shaking his head.

            “I don't know what you're seeing,” Hector replied. “Do you think it was like before? With your sister I mean.”

            “No,” Merana replied, shaking her head. “Hard as it was, I could at least figure out if it was an hallucination or not. This...it's like he's physically there, but it doesn't seem like anyone else can see him.”

            Hector scratched at his facial hair. “All sorts of strange happenings these days,” he said. “Best not-“ The man's ears suddenly perked up. “Do you hear that?”

            “What?” Merana asked.

            Jumping to his feet, Hector drew his sword out, sniffing the air.

            “We have company,” he said.

            Both of them surveyed the area around them. A shuffling of feet approached their position.

            “I can't see much in this light,” Hector asked. “How about you? Do you see anything?”

            “Not yet.”

            A wet cough had both of them wheel around to see a shadow ambling towards them.

            “Who goes there?” Merana commanded, sword in hand.

            The figure stumbled into view, hand held to his slashed throat. Getting a better look, Merana recognized him as Morren. The slashes and stab wounds that dotted his body bled profusely and his eye had swollen shut. Seeing Morren tumble to the ground, Hector and Merana cautiously approached the man as his wheezing breaths slowly tapered off.

            “Alert the camp.”

            Within minutes, Darran and Wergotte were examining Morren's corpse.

            “How did they get so close?” Wergotte asked.

            “The lighting has been rather irregular this evening,” Merana replied.

            Darran drummed his fingers against his lips. “How did he end up across the camp without alerting anyone?”

            “He might have been pacing around the southern perimeter when he got jumped. We found him when he approached from the eastern side.”

            Looking over the body, Darran focused on the hilt sticking out of Morren's back.

            “This blade...” he said, gingerly pinching the hilt with his fingers, Darran chanced a more firm grip and pulled the blade out.

            “I should have done that,” Merana said disapprovingly.

            “There was no danger to be had from this,” Darran said, inspecting the weapon. “You of all people should be able to recognize the hum of active magic. Now give me some space, please.”

            The odd geometric angles gave the blade a hexagonal shape. Along its matte black surface, faint bluish-sliver lines traced to the hilt. Blood had caked onto the surface, blackened as if it had been set out in the sun days ago.

            “You're telling me that magic did that?” Wergotte blanched.

            “I've seen some things like this in Tevinter,” Darran answered. “But never anything this advanced. I can't even see any runes. Care to have a look, Lenli?”

            The dwarf plucked the blade out of Darran's hand.

            “I'm not much good at weapons crafting,” Lenli said. “Or runes for that matter, but I'll have a look at it.”

            “But aren't you a dwarf?” Judel asked                      

            “Even exiled, I worked as a miner. You'd need a proper smith if you want some solid answers.” The dwarf found a rock to sit on, muttering things about ancestors and idiots. Morren's friends pulled him off to bury and the rest of company dispersed, leaving Darran, Hector, and Merana to confer with one another.

            “Do you think...” Hector trailed off.

            “The enemy is close,” Darran said. “That's all anyone needs to know for now. We already have enough problems as it is.”

            The rest of the day was spent searching for caves, most of which turned out to be dead-ends, even when Merana had a chance to look at them. The next night, everyone shared in Merana's disposition on sleep. When morning come, one of their number had gone missing.           

            “Where's Liran?” Wergotte asked

            “He went off or a leak last night,” one replied.

            “Did you see him come back?”

            The man shrugged.

            Continuing their search, the found Liran's desiccated corpse pinned to a rock, dried blood smeared on the surfaces around him.

            “Charming,” Hector said, grimacing.

            “Get him down from there,” Wergotte barked.

            “This is more than a freak occurrence,” Lenli said.

            Away from the discussion, Merana looked up to the cliffs where her follower was now kneeling. Even without seeing his face, she could feeling the grimness about him, the he stood with his arms crossed, always standing like an ever-present sentinel, cloak shrouding his features entirely.

            “Merana?” Lenli asked, patting her on the shoulder.

            “Tell me someone else is seeing this.”

            “Seeing what?”

Weapons were drawn around her. Once again, no one noticed his presence, even as he walked away.

“Is everything all right, Merana?”

            “Something’s been following us for a while now. At first I thought I was seeing things, but this has persisted for too much to be a hallucination.”

            “Could it be the enemy?”

            “If it is, I doubt he would linger long enough for me to see, but remain invisible to everyone else.” She glanced up where the specter had been. “No, this is a warning. Of what, I cannot say.”

            No one would be getting much sleep that night.

           

           

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Updated as of 19-SEP-2019
> 
> Right, so things start getting a little weird. I actually had forgotten about the spectral encounter, and I had to modify the ending to properly address it within the confines of the story. Thankfully, my notes provided me the answer I was looking for, and he's a character that will be important later. Frustrating, as I've been sitting on some of these answers for years by this point.


	12. Chapter Eleven

The trend of find men missing persisted. Each day, someone, either a guard or someone who happened to be close to the edge of camp, would be missing. When they began their search, they would find the desiccated corpse along the way, mangled nearly to the point of being unrecognizable. Out of a company of fifty-eight, forty-five remained.

“They're leading us somewhere,” Merana whispered.

“Of course they are,” Lenli replied. “I thought that much was obvious.”

“No, I mean somewhere specific.”

“An ambush? Because that wouldn't be surprising at all with all the luck we've had.” The dwarf paused to look at her friend. “Oh, come on. Don't give me that look. Besides, were still keeping up our normal search.”

“If they can sneak up on us and abduct one of us at night, they could simply wipe us all out in one fell swoop. As it stands, we're being attacked at night without anyone ever seeing the perpetrators.”

“Maybe Darran will pick up a clue.”

“I certainly hope so. I'm not certain how much longer we can hold out like this.”

 

¤

 

When the others had gone to sleep, Merana remained wide awake, listening and trying to remain as still as possible in hopes that she could catch the culprit. A couple times she thought she had heard them come through, but she waited until she knew what to listen for.

Like ghosts, they approached, breath virtually silent. Their steps were soft. Regardless, Merana had attuned herself to their presence. When they got close enough, she flared her powers and jumped to her feet.

Everyone in the camp woke up with a start, hands at their weapons as they leaped to their feet. Standing just at the edge of the camp was a trio of elves, their armor identical to the ones they had fought in Clovasi. One reached for a pocket, but Lenli shot the item from his hands before he could use it.

Seeing the response to their presence, the elves began to withdraw, cutting down as many as they could as they were overwhelmed. One scrambled out of the mob, only to run into Hector. With a quick series of slashes, the enemy was disabled and subdued, clawing at the ground to crawl away.

The mercenaries were busy mauling the other two elves when Wergotte shouted about the din.

“Stand down! Break it up, break it up.”

With some deliberation, the men backed off the mangled corpses, all of them brandishing their weapons in the anticipation of having more targets to vent their rage on.

“They deserved it,” Judel said, spitting on the nearest corpse.

“It's a good thing you didn't kill all of them, we wouldn't be able to question them.”

Looking at the disabled enemy combatant, he pointed to his men. “You two, get the prisoner out someplace out of sight. Make sure he doesn't try anything.”

Merana walked up to Darran, whose face had become an impassive mask.

“They'll know we've dealt with them,” he said. “How soon do you think they'll send a follow-up?”

“Since we haven't seen a follow-up attack yet,” Merana replied. “Either they're still waiting for something, or their backup is nowhere close by. I would say about midday, depending on-”

“That should be enough time.”

Darran walked after the prisoner and his guard detail with a look in his eyes that Merana had not seen before.

Shrugging off her misgivings, she walked to where the elves had fallen. Spotting a glint in the moonlight, she picked up the mirror from the dirt. Dusting off the trinket, she observed the cracks in the device that had rendered it useless.

Flipping it around in her hands, she noted the weight and textures felt wrong. Even if it was not tainted outright, it still had an unnatural sensation around it. Pocketing the mirror, she looked for the captain.

“How many did we lose here?” She asked.

“Nine killed outright,” Wergotte answered. “Another six wounded, one of which is severe. Add that to the thirteen we lost from before, we're down to half our original strength.”

“How well do you think your men are at this point?”

“They're tough, but I think we've bitten off more than we can chew.”

Watching the fire dance before her eyes, Merana nearly flinched when Hector called out to her.

“Merana, over here.”

Jumping to her feet, she ran to catch up to Hector. Despite his casual attitude, the man seemed somewhat stiff, bracing for an impending attack.

“How is the prisoner?” Merana asked.

“He's been surprisingly cooperative,” Hector replied. “Relatively speaking.”

“So what do you need me for?”

“He says he'll only talk to you.”

Before she could asked anything else, she was ushered into the cave where they had stowed the prisoner.

The elf had been relieved of his weapons and armor. Unlike the elves that they had fought in Nordbotten, this one was highly muscular, the build of a consummate warrior. Despite the bruises on his face, he smiled widely as he saw Merana enter.

“Ah, so this is-” he began to say, but Darran quickly cut him off.

“You said you would speak with her. She's here. Now talk, without going on rabbit-trails.”

The prisoner muttered something in elvish before directing his attention to Merana.

“I see you've been looking pretty extensively for us,” he said. “If you want, I could tell you how to find what you're looking for.”

“How would we know you're telling us the truth?” Merana asked. “And why would you do that in the first place?”

“I have my reasons. More importantly, you have your reasons, and I want to see how far you can go. You see, you're pretty much walking into a city, full of fanatical soldiers willing to die for the cause.”

“And you're not fanatical?”

“I am...in my own way.”

Stepping away from the prisoner, Merana noticed Darran and Hector conversing with each other.

“What are we going to do?” Hector asked.

“I knew we were going into the thick of things, but this...” Darran trailed off. “And without the element of surprise, we're going to need to bring an army with us.”

“There isn't any time to waste if you want to save those we have conscripted.” The prisoner said, loud enough to be heard from his corner. Seeing everyone stare at him, he smiled again. “That's why I'm here. You are running short on time, and I'm tired of watching you idiots wander around like you have been. You would have missed the entrance anyways.”

“Will you lead us there?” Merana asked.

“Since you asked so nicely." Standing up, the bindings on the prisoner fell off of him. “But only if we leave now.”

Ignoring the weapons pointed in his direction, he walked out of the cave.

“Are we doing this?” Hector asked.

Merana exhaled sharply. “Either we follow him and walk into a trap or we wait for them to pick us all off one by one.”

The three of them jogged to catch up to the elf, who was walking at a steady pace. Wergotte quickly conferred with Darran and went to bark off some orders. Lenli caught up to them, puffing in their wake.

Part of their band broke camp and would follow as soon as they were able. The rest, however, followed the enigmatic elf warily, ready to strike him down the moment he tried anything. All along their hike, a smug grin was plastered on the prisoner's face.

“Here we are.” he said, suddenly coming to a stop.

He directed them to an unassuming cave, almost indistinguishable from any other they had searched before. Its length was enough to afford them decent cover from the elements and ample shade, but until their guide reached the end of the cave, there was nothing that indicated that it played home anything more than some wildlife in the past.

Wergotte rested his blade on the elf's neck.

“You better not be playing any games,” the captain growled.

With a loud clang, the doors yielded to their presence, allowing them to enter.

“Here we are," the captured elf said, glancing at his captors.

An ominous presence wafted from the opening. The oppressive black seemed to swallow the torchlight and even Merana's vision struggled to pierce its veil.

“I don’t like this,” Judel said.

“Then don’t follow us,” Darran answered.

Judel opened his mouth then quickly shut it as Wergotte took him aside.

“You stay here with the wounded and any who wish to remain here. Hold the entrance while we're down there. Also, send messengers back to Tallo and send word back to Nordbotten.”

Inclining his head, Judel turned to leave, yanking the prisoner along after him, laughing as he was led away.

“Just remember that the door only opens to the People,” he said. “Keep Merana close.”

Wergotte scowled at retreating figure, then addressed the men. “Any of you who wish to remain here, follow Judel. I am leaving him in charge while I'm gone.”

Giving one last glance over her shoulder, Merana saw as the cloaked man turned and walked into the plains, his cloak now ignoring the elements around him. The grim aura he was emanating was replaced with one of sorrow.

Turning back to the door, Merana stepped passed the thirteen that returned to that mouth of the cave, pressing through the threshold.

The tunnel wound and spiraled as it led deeper into the ground, becoming more solid and defined the further it went until they reached another set of doors.

“Well,” Lenli said. “If I were going to place a bet, I'd wager that this is a back entrance, or something pretty close to it.”

“What do we-?” Wergotte began to ask when the doors opened.

The ceiling of the cavern had an eerie glow to it, not entirely unlike moonlight, but it felt so unnatural it was almost nauseating at first.

            Covering every square inch of the cavern floor was an immense city made up of buildings hewn from stone. The dark structures felt alien, angled and shaped in roughly the same uniform geometric form and exuded an intimidating presence.

            The city was layered and tiered, with only a few buildings stretching over the others, but those that did easily dwarfed their neighbors. One in particular tower in the center of the cavern stretched all of the way to the cavern ceiling, with the same ghastly lights illuminating its entire length.

            “We'll split up here,” Wergotte said. “Our movements are less likely to be detected.”

            Darran’s eyes flicked over to the captain, but no other sign of emotion was on his face.

            “Where will we meet?” Darran asked.

The captain searched the cityscape below them. “How about that square? If not, find the tallest structure near it and we'll rejoin you there. Some of my men will accompany you.”

Descending in the first few layers, everyone looked around nervously, agitated by the eerie sound of wind gently blowing around the vacant houses.

“Is there anyone even here?” Lenli whispered, as she placed another explosive.

Answering her question, she was dragged behind a corner by Darran as a squad of elven soldier rushed past their street.

Merana looked at Darran. “Do you think they know we are here?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” He answered. “Actually, I’m surprised they didn’t turn down this way instead.”

“Let’s keep going, then.” Hector whispered. “The longer we stay here, the more likely we’ll be noticed.”

“I doubt we’ll find anyone else around here.” Lenli stated. “All these buildings are empty.”

Merana looked around. “They already know we are here.”

“Then we’ll be extra cautious.” Hector whispered. “We don’t know when we’ll be walking into a trap.”

“That is if we have not done so already.”

A series of shouts echoed in the cavern, prompting the four of them to take cover. When they were certain they had not been spotted, they crept towards the edge of the tier.

As the voices grew louder, they found themselves overlooking a courtyard with four ranks of elves lined up in the center with roughly twenty in each line, and a number of guards posted in and around the grounds, as well as a line of seven conscripts standing across from the main group.

One elf in particular was pacing back in forth in front of them, his head uncovered, showing his platinum blond hair and white eyes that looked over the crowd with cold fury.

“Welcome to all of you who have just joined us. I am your Overseer,” the elf said enigmatically. “A glorious time is upon us, but you are not citizens yet. You have been conscripted. You must earn your place, as else everyone of Arladurgen has done before you.”

The conscripts shifted uneasily at the Overseer’s words.

“Those that stand here before you are those who have shunned our generosity; betrayed our trust.”

As he was about to continue his speech, one of the other conscripts spoke out. “You claim to be for the elves, but all I’ve seen is the same brutality that the shems practice on a regular basis. Probably even worse.”

The elf stepped forward past the Overseer, who beckoned his men to hold stay their weapons while the elf pleaded with the other conscripts. “These people don’t care about us. They only-”

Like a spring trap, the Overseer’s arm latched on to the elf, dragging him to meet his kneecap. As the conscript struggled to rise, a boot slammed down onto his back, spattering blood across the floor when his victim coughed.

“Grovel at my feet!” the Overseer growled. His voice echoing through the cavern, the Overseer stooped down, whispering into the man’s ear. “Is it so hard for you to bow? You did it well enough for your human masters.”

“Why should I-oof!”

The Overseer glared as the groaning elf rolled away from a punch to the stomach.

“All bow to a force above them. It is a law of nature. You are no different.”

The man coughed up a puddle of blood next to the Overseer’s boot, receiving a kick to the ribs for his transgression.

“Your past record still holds some hope for your future. Do not make me regret sparing you.” The Overseer turned to the guards and shouted. “Take him away!”

Some of the other conscripts shuffled nervously as the beaten conscript was dragged away.

One of the women, nearly blubbering, spoke up. “Where are all of those too young to participate? Where have you put them?”

The Overseer clenched his fists and jaw, then turned to the woman. “I thought I made it clear that I do not care to be interrupted, especially multiple times in a row. Were you not paying attention, or are you somehow brain-damaged.”

“I haven’t seen them since I arrived,” the woman said, clearly oblivious to the growing agitation from the Overseer. “Where are they?”

“You are concerned for you children?” The Overseer asked with mock concern.

The woman sheepishly nodded, foolishly accepting his falsified sympathy, only to receive a punch to the face that sent her sliding several feet along the floor. The other five convicted conscripts did not flinch.

“How many times must I pound this lesson into your skulls?!” The Overseer screamed, punctuating nearly every other word with another kick to the helpless woman. “You speak when spoken to, and not a moment sooner!”

When he had finished, the woman’s face hardly seemed recognizable after the repeated impacts of an armored foot.

“Your children will earn their keep until they are old enough. Perhaps they will understand this lesson better than you did.”

Waving a dismissive hand, two guards came and checked for a pulse, dragging her off when they found none.

“Unfortunate,” the Overseer said, his voice recomposed into an icy tone once more. “Let this be a warning to your peers: we are forgiving, but our mercy is not infinite. Does anyone else wish to voice their concerns?”

Everyone stood up straighter, staring ahead at the blank wall in front of them.

“Excellent,” the Overseer said, turning to another soldier. “Take this group to the education center. And give me a moment before you bring the next group in.”

The infiltrators watched as the conscripts were led off.

“We have to find those people.” Merana said. “Fast.”

 

¤

 

The moon shone down on the group of mercenaries that sat outside the entrance tunnel of the mountain.

“Are you sure it’s good for us to be out here?” one asked.

One of the older mercenaries took a swig from his bottle and looked at the cloudless sky. “They need someone to watch their backs in case these elves have anything else coming to back them up.”

“But will there be anyone coming?” Judel asked. “They’re pretty isolated out here.”

“Maybe once you’ve spent a couple more years working this life, you won’t find the need to question of why you get paid.”

None of the mercenaries noticed when the elves sprung from their hiding spots to ambush them.

 

¤

 

            Moving quickly and quietly through the streets, Merana scouted ahead of the others.

            “About time you all showed up,” A voice said from above.

            The infiltrators took cover, looking for the source of the voice. Looking up, they found Julios sitting on the edge of one of the buildings, resting his chin on his left fist.

            “Such an interesting group you’ve brought; a renegade Templar, an exile of exiles, a wandering swordsman, a former slave-catcher who is trying to hide from his past, and...whatever the rest of you are.”

            Darran narrowed his eyes at the elven warrior.

 “Your wife told me all about your work in Tevinter, Darran. Or should I say, Tracer.”

Merana only caught Darran’s reaction through her peripheral, but the man was visibly tense, clenching his jaw tightly, though she could not tell whether it was the mention of his wife or being referred to by his old name that set him on edge.

Julios smirked, pleased with the reaction, and continued talking.

“How many of those slaves grew to fear you? All of those who spent days, weeks running from you as you hunted them down like animals?”

“I left that life behind a long time ago.”

“Yes, you grew a conscious and tried to bury your past actions. Quite well, in fact. Almost too well, don't you think?” Julios mused to himself.

“What?”

“Do you ever wonder how easy it was. Perhas it was because you lacked empathy, or maybe because your precious Josi made sure that you buried that part of you." He paused momentarily to stop an arrow midflight. "Excuse me. Where are you manners? Where was I? Oh, yes. You didn't honestly believe you can be instantly forgiven from crimes like by running away, especially after how long you lingered like a shadow to all of those slaves you hunted, the pleasure you experience. Why else do you think she stayed with you?”

“Shut up!”

“She was manipulating you the whole time, just to make sure you never went back and brought their former masters on their heads.”

“That's enough,” Merana declared, stepping out of her cover.

“And you continue to bring me sorrow, Merana Seriat,” Julios said with a sigh. “So hung up on your past…it is a great tragedy that I will have to kill you.”

“Not before I kill you.”

“We'll see,” Julios replied, amused. “I won't insult your determination by extending my offer a second time.”

As Julios withdrew to a better vantage point, what looked to be around two dozen armored elves revealed themselves on the rooftops, staring down at the intruders through obscuring visors of their masks. Another wore more distinguishing armor and carried a poleaxe in her right hand and an oppressive gaze behind her visor.

“So, let us begin by testing your mettle on these new recruits we just finished training.”

At those words, the soldiers jumped down and engaged the intruders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Updated as of 24-SEP-2019
> 
> *Sigh* The eternal struggle between keeping a steady pace with minimum of filler, all while making sure the world is properly flushed out. While I think I mostly achieved the former, I think it came at a cost to the latter in this instance.
> 
> Then again, I was never originally planning to write this much leading up to the main story. Most of this was developed on the fly until I got around to rewriting the original plot outline. *Sniffs* Food for thought, I suppose.


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The situation in Arladurgen deteriorates rapidly as the enemy's counter-attack gains momentum.

The enemy combatants fell on them as one, drawing their weapons in crisp motions in an eerie synchronization. Lenli landed the first shot, but her crossbow bolt glanced off her target’s armor who knocked her crossbow out of her hands as soon as he landed.

Seeing his ally in a bind, Hector decapitated the dwarf's opponent, parrying another strike from behind with the same stroke.

“Thanks,” Lenli said, scooping up her weapon. She edged away from the bulk of the fighting and resumed firing.

Merana hesitated as the first two approached her. If these were the new recruits, they had been twisted or convinced to fight them, and they were not holding back. As much as she hated it, she was going to have to kill them if she hoped to save any others.

Dropping to her knee, she deactivated her shield while two of her attackers moved to tackle her. When they were close enough, she opened the shield once more, bifurcating her two opponents.

Rising to her feet again, one of the soldiers singled her out, swinging her two swords around wildly. Despite Merana’s experience, she felt hard-pressed to counter and block every swing. The warrior practically predicted every move she made before she could make one and was still testing her for openings in her defenses.

Bashing her opponent with her shield, one of the swords was knocked from the other elf's  hand, but the distraction was brief and the elf rushed at her again.

A faint glow pulsed along the elf's blade's edge. When the blade made contact with Merana's shield, a blast of fire knocked her back. Shaking her head, Merana brought her shield up in time to block the successive strike, watching as the shield shimmered under the arcane force.

Sweeping her legs under the target, Merana saw her opponent leap several feet into the air before slamming back into the ground, cracking the ground where the Templar had been a moment before.

The elf spun around, lashing out with her sword and firing a bolt of lightning from the tip, making Merana’s shield flicker momentarily when it was struck.

_Where's Wergotte?_ Merana thought.

 

-¤-

 

            Darran parried another thrust from who he could only guess was an officer of sort, or a sergeant. The woman’s poleaxe had him at a disadvantage in regards to reach, but was fairly readable until a gust of air cut past his head.

            The sergeant spun her weapon around her torso, charging a spell, a ball of lightning, to accompany the next swing. Her movements were sharp, but gracefully flowed into each other in a never-ending chain of attacks. Even without the salvo of spells being thrown out, her movements and defensive techniques were holding him at bay.

            Feeling the enemy’s blade graze his shoulder, Darran swore under his breath and ducked under a blunt swing at his head. As the sergeant pulled her weapon back, Darran tackled her, but instead of knocking her off-balance, she held her stance and rolled the man off to the side, bringing her poleaxe to bear once more, an orb of orange glowing at the tip.

“Heads up!” Lenli shouted.

Cancelling the spell, the sergeant launched herself into the air. Seconds later, an explosion knocked everyone off balance.

Recovering first, Merana saw Lenli laying on her side, crossbow still in hand and a spattering of singed remains carpeting the ground in front of her.

Shaking off the disorientation, Merana’s hearing returned in time for her to hear a loud war cry as her foe leaped into the air, sweeping her sword down on Merana.

Blocking the sword with the shield, Merana ran her sword through her the elf’s armor. The weight of the armored person carried forward, shoving Merana backwards, nearly knocking her off her feet and driving the blade through to the hilt. Still defiant, the elf raised her blade for a final, spiteful blow.

Pulsing her powers, Merana twisted her sword as her opponent’s harmless glanced against her shoulder. No longer able to remain standing, the other elf relaxed.

“I knew you’d come for me,” a little voice said.

Merana looked at the helmet where the voice had come from in horror as it retracted, revealing Aevra’s face. She looked thinner and paler than before, with some fading bruises dotting her skin.

As Darran and Hector finished their opponents, Lenli scanned the rooftops for Julios, but he was nowhere to be found.

“That’s what I kept telling them,” Aevra said with a weak smile. “But they didn’t like that and hit me, and jabbed me with needles.”

“I’m sorry,” Merana said, holding back tears. “I came here to rescue you, but I did this.”

“Don’t feel bad, Mer. I’m just glad you came while I could still go back to my own... mind…”

As Aevra slumped against the Templar, Merana eased her to the ground.

While Merana wept over Aevra’s lifeless body, Hector found one of the soldiers struggling on the ground. With one arm, he grabbed the elf by the collar and dragged slammed against the nearest building.

 “Where did your boss just go?” Hector growled, pressing the elf against the wall.

“Do you see the tower over there?” he replied, pointing to largest tower. “That is the education center. That is where you will want to go, but none of you are going to make it out of there-”

A quick slash to the elf’s throat silenced whatever threats he had prepared to voice.

“We need to go, Merana,” said Darran.

“I know,” Merana replied, wiping away the tears from her eyes.

Gathering herself, Merana gave the girl’s corpse one last glance. She looked peaceful, just like Kerine had all of those years ago.

One of the surviving mercenaries, leaned against a nearby wall, his arm dangling at an awkward angle.

“I guess I’m not claiming that pay anytime soon,” He grunted. “Ahlfie, you’re taking every able-bodied soldier and taking them onward.”

            “What about you?”

            “I’ll stay back with the wounded. We’ll be slowing you down.”

            “But-“

            “Yes, I don’t have any doubt what we have in store for us. Just finish the mission.”

            Darran gave the man a pointed look.

            “What about Wergotte?”

            “If he isn’t here now, I doubt he’ll make it in time before we’re overrun.”

            “Get a move on!”

            Nodding, Darran turned to Merana, who was still kneeling next to Aevra’s body.

            “Merana.”

“I can’t remove my guilt from this, Aevra,” Merana said, standing to her feet. “But neither can I shoulder all of the blame myself.” Looking to her friends, they began navigating the city, keeping the Education Center in front of them.

 

-¤-

 

Wergotte gasped as the last of his life ebbed from his body. All around him, his men were dead and dying. They had never gotten close to their rendezvous with the others.

            Wheezing, the captain grasped the gaping breach in his armor. He had been too busy dealing with the small-fry that he had not seen their commander come blasting through with a whole company of reinforcements. He had not even gotten a good look at him, as by the time he was aware that he had been hit, his assailant had already moved on, leaving what few men he had little more than greasy smears on the walls and the cavern floor.

 

-¤-

 

Merana was sprinting at the front of the formation. Her attention was dedicated to the tallest structure in the city. The Education Center stretched from the cavern floor to the ceiling.  Compared against the other buildings they had seen, as large as some of them had been, the spire was massive, and even though it looked slender, its width gave her a better estimation of the cavern's height.

Despite the sporadic attacks, they quickly approached their target.

“Where is everyone?” Lenli asked between breaths. “Surely they couldn’t have hidden _everyone_ out for us.”

Hector eyed the alleyways.

“I can make a guess where the bulk of the enemy forces are,” the swordsman said.

“Ahead of us,” Darran concluded.

The buildings ended in a large clearing surrounding the Education Center. Marking the otherwise flat surface were small outcroppings and protruding defenses. The opening of the tower itself was a yawning chasm with thick doors that looked too heavy for them to open. Thankfully, they were already ajar, welcoming them.

Looking up, Merana spotted Julios sitting on top of the door’s threshold.

“So the valiant heroes storm the enemy encampment to slay the villains,” he said in a mocking tone. “However, I still stand in your way.” Hopping off his perch, the elf fell more than a dozen meters and landed with a pulse of light glinting off the surface. Rising to his feet with no sign of injury, he grinned and dusted himself off. “I have to admit, you have gotten farther than I would have thought possible, but you sacrificed quite a bit to get to this point. Not as many mooks to throw at us as before.”

Merana fired her shield up, prompting the others to prepare for combat.

“Everyone,” Darran ordered. “Leave this one to me. He’s mine.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Merana pleaded. “We both have reasons for taking this monster, but we cannot do it alone.”

“You want a duel?” Julios asked. “Very well, I accept.” Signaling his men to back off. “The rest of you will finish off the others.” With a thrust of his hand against the cool, smooth floor, a shield formed around the two of them as Darran sprinted forward. “Let us begin,” Julios said with a grin.

Wasting no time, Darran closed in on Julios, hacking at the elf with enough force to shove him backwards, even though he was able to block the attack.

Pushing against Darran’s weapons, the elf leaned forward and hopped back. Floating over the floor, his boots scrapping against the metallic floor as he landed and ran at him again.

Darran swung at his opponent with barely constrained fury, every hit staggering the elf. But for each hit, Julios deflected the next more efficiently. Between each blow, he would flick out his wrist, either to lash out at Darran with the claws on his gauntlets, or to fire a spell. The ex-slave hunter could easily dodge the spells, but constant barrage wore on him, and each time, he was getting a little slower…

“No need to go easy on me, human,” Julios cackled.

Darran growled as he blocked a barrage of strikes. One block was a little too slow and the sharp claws of Julios’ gauntlets clipped him over the eye. The next strike caught Darran in the shoulder, spinning him around.

With a smile, Darran dipped down, swinging with the momentum, catching the elf in the stomach. Taking advantage of his foe’s shock, he aimed for Julios’ head, but was thrown back. Giving his neck a crack, Darran twirled his weapons around in his hands.

“You’re right,” he said. “No reason for me to hold back.”

 

-¤-

 

When the barrier went up, Hector, Merana, and the surviving mercenaries formed a defense around Lenli as she lobbed a grenade at their assailants, half of whom disappeared in a flash of blue-white light.

Seeing the fate their allies had fallen to, the remaining enemies spread out, with archers taking positions at the rear. Taking note of their change of tactics, Lenli pulled up her crossbow and began sniping them two in rapid succession, rolling and taking advantage of the her small size by hiding behind larger corpses.

With the closing lines, Hector fell into the midst of the enemy combatants, taking advantage of the close quarters and momentary confusion to disable the immediate threats before they could properly respond. When they began to press him, Merana plowed through the nearside of the formation, shoving the elves into their allies. Meanwhile, Hector preyed on those still recovering,

More snipers came out as the reinforcements advanced on their position, who received a grenade in their path, thinning their ranks before the got close enough to do any damage. Gleefully, Lenli shot the stragglers down along with those who slipped around the others. Her attention shifted when she noticed the absence of return fire.

“What are you doing…?” she thought aloud. “They’re pulling back!”

“What?” Hector said as he slammed his opponent against the ground, quickly slashing him across the throat before looking to the Dwarf.

“I said they’re pulling back.”

“You hear that, Merana?”

The elf in question bowled another elf against the barrier, frying him as the shield repelled him.

“What do you mean?” She demanded.

“Exactly what I said.” Lenli angrily shouted back. “I saw some of them turn around and head back into the city.”

“Then-“

A shout drew their attention to the happenings inside the barrier.

Julios scooted back from Darran, who had a withering look on his face. The elf’s breastplate had been sundered, his helmet sported several gouges, and the armor around his joints were coated with red. Darran, on the other hand, sported some scraps and burns, damaged clothing marking where he had evaded lethal strikes.

“Are you kidding me?” Darran growled. “I had to protect my master from mage assassins all the time. Did you really think I would go down that easily?”

Julios reached to his side, but Darran kicked away the lyrium crystal before he could absorb it. Stretching his left arm out, Julios fired a weak blast, which Darran easily sidestepped. He spat aside and stomped on the elf’s chest.

“Where’s my wife?” Darran demanded.

With a thump to the midsection, Darran was sent sliding across the ground. Recovering his weapons, he scrambled to his feet, frantically searching for his new attacker.

Wincing from the pain, Julios rolled on the floor onto his knees, retrieving another lyrium shard and crushing it in his hands.

“I’d rather I not have to use this in the first place,” He said, gritting his teeth. “But seeing as I am in somewhat of a bind…”

The gauntlet emitted a pulse, and a figure tossed away a concealing cloak like a curtain of fog. The sergeant cracked her neck and brought her poleaxe to bear.

“Why am I not surprised?” Darran muttered.

“This is war,” Julios cackled. “You could have hardly expected me to play fair.” He then turned to the sergeant. “Use any means to take him down.”

Raising his weapons, Darran braced his opponent’s next strike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Updated as of 26-SEP-2019
> 
> I think I may have tried too hard to go for an emotional punch here. If I ever rewrite this, I'd definitely go for a more subtle touch to this sort of scene.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With unsettling revelations, the situation grows more grim.

            The sergeant swung her poleaxe at Darran, making him dance around in the confines of the shield. The strength of her blows were deeply felt against his tiring arms. Still laying on the ground, Julios chuckled as the fight carried on, glancing at those waiting outside.

            He was irked that his men were so easily defeated, but with the way the fight inside the shield was going, they could be dealt with in short order. The probability of success went up the longer they could draw things out.

            Catching the poleaxe, Darran shoved it aside while lunging in, bringing his other axe onto his foe’s head. The helmet cracked and fell away, the woman’s face. Her hair was a light shade of brown, closely and beginning to thin. Cold grey eyes stared at her opponent.

            Darran froze.

            “Josi?” he inquired hesitantly.

            Without reply, Josi brought her poleaxe around, swatting the stunned man aside. Grunting, Darran blocked before the blade end could bite flesh.

            “Josi, stop!” he pleaded. “It’s me, Darran. Please. Answer me!”      

            His pleas were met with cold silence as his wife swung her poleax at him. Again and again, she came at him, flinging salvo after salvo of spells. Every offense was sloppily deflected by Darran, who continued to call out to his beloved.

            Darran swung furiously, but refrained from doing anything severely harming her. His opponent showed no such restraint as she hammered against him.       

            Josi swept her weapon underneath her husband, knocking him into the air, and brought pommel down on his chest, slamming him into the ground. Laying on his back, gasping for breath, Darran watched as his wife prepared to deliver a coup-de-grace.

            “No!” Merana shouted.          

            Pressing her powers against the shield, Merana shredded through the barrier, barreling into Josi and blocking her counter-strike with her shield. Her sword swing was parried with enough strength to nearly knock her sword from her hand, but she recovered and swung again.

            Lenli fired a bolt over Merana’s shoulder, staggering Josi long enough for Merana to slash her leg. Grunting, Josi swung her poleaxe around, slamming it against the Templar’s back. Whipping around, she spun her weapon, slapping away another bolt and followed up with a stunning blast.

            Sliding up to Josi, Hector blocked her next attack and swung a leg underneath her, forcing her to jump as Merana tackled her to the ground. Focusing her energy to her palm, Merana gripped the woman’s forehead and pressed. Letting out a scream, Josi thrashed and futilely slapped at her assailant.

            With a scream, Josi through Merana off and dragged herself back to her feet. Merana grabbed her sword, pointing it at the woman as she wobbled in a daze.

            “I’m sorry,” Josi said, collapsing in a fit of tears.

            Darran forced himself up to catch her.

            “I’m here, love,” He said, holding her in an embrace.

            “I’m so sorry,” She said, repeating it over and over.

            Julios propped himself up to his knees, spitting a mouthful of blood to the side.

            “What lovely, touching reunion,” he drawled sarcastically. Raising his arm, he fired off an arcane bolt at Darran. Josi stepped in front of her husband, taking the bolt to the torso. The spell burned through her, her armor, and into Darran, mortally wounding him.

            Eying Lenli as she was taking aim with her crossbow, Julios fired another blast at the dwarf, who fell to the ground, then took aim at Merana.

            Dodging a barrage of poorly aimed bolts, Merana cut into Julios’ armor in synchronization with Hector, him slicing into the tendon of Julios’ right arm while she dragged her blade across his neck.

            With a cough, Julios fell to his knees in a growing pool of his own blood, clutching his good hand to his throat. With a final kick, gravity carried the enemy soldier the rest of the way to the floor. The cavern quickly fell silent.

            Darran crawled to Josi’s side.

            “I’m so sorry,” she said, weakly.

            “Hush, darling,” Darran said, taking her hand in his. “We had a good run.”

            Merana buried her sword into a nearby corpse and clasped her hands, giving the deceased couple and the rest of the fallen a quick prayer as Hector surveyed the battlefield. Bodies littered the courtyard, blood muting the sheen of the metallic-looking floor.

            “It’s just us now,” Hector said.

            Nodding, Merana walked to Lenli’s body and rummaged through the dwarf’s gear. Pulling out a pair of grenades, she tossed one to Hector.

            “One for each of us,” she said. “That’s the last of them.”

            “Just in case, I take it,” Hector replied.

            “Something like that.”

            The two of them looked to the open doors.

            “Are you ready?” Merana asked.

            “Do you have to ask?” he replied.

            Retrieving her weapon, the two of them ran into the Education Center.

            To their surprise, the lobby was fairly empty. An antechamber to whatever lay beyond, and standing at the far side was the Overseer, flanked by a dozen warriors.

            “Brave of you to persist in the face of hopeless odds,” he said, smirking slightly at the intruders. “Brave and foolhardy.” Stretching out his hand, his men ran forward.

            Hector and Merana charged forward to meet them.

            Bashing her first opponent back, Merana rolled around his friend and drove her sword into his back. His friend quickly attacked her before she could pull out her sword. Deactivating her shield, she opened it again, slicing off the man’s sword arm and decapitating her other victim.

            With a shout, Hector ducked under a swing and drove his shoulder into the offender’s throat. Snaking his arm around the man’s neck, Hector wrench his neck and dragged him into the path of a spell, immolating the elf in hand. Throwing the fallen soldier at his ally, Hector grabbed the dropped sword and flung it at the nearest enemy soldier as he closed distance.

            Another elf flew up past his left side, swinging her sword. Parrying and ducking underneath the blow, he caught his intended target’s arm and rolled him over his shoulder as his ally rebounded back at him. When her blade drove into the other soldier’s back, he jabbed his blade into the slit of her helmet, blinding her as he dealt with his next target.

            A wave of energy washed over Hector as Merana jumped over him to strike down the soldier coming up from behind him. Tag teaming, the two of them quickly dispatched the next soldier when a fireball flew between them. Turning around, they finished off the blinded elf and turned their attention to the Overseer, who rolled his shoulders back as he watched the last of his men fall.

            “I suppose I have to do this myself,” he said with disappointment.

            The Overseer pressed his fingertips together and pulled them apart, flicking them outward. Grabbing the newly-formed, glowing staff ice, he swung it up against his shoulder, resting his right hand on the portion extending above his head. Sweeping left foot across the floor, he swung his staff down, smacking the floor and scraping around him.

            A cloud of fog sprung up from nowhere and began to swirl around, frosting every surface in the room. Despite the chill, Merana and Hector stood unaffected.

            “How?” The Overseer demanded.

            “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Hector replied.

            Snarling at the setback, the Overseer gathered the spell and concentrated it at the end of his staff. Flinging it forward, a shower of icicles flew at his foes.

            Diving forward, Merana slid in front of Hector, putting her shield between them and the attack.

            Forming a new staff in each hand, he launched himself across the room, spiraling to swing at the both of them. As Merana ducked under the swing aimed for her, Hector intercepted both blows. With a growl, the Overseer kicked Merana away, pulled one staff away, and fired the energy out from the end, barely missing Hector as he evaded the aim corrections. Shoving Hector back, the Overseer crushed the depleted staff and blasted it at the man.

            Rolling aside, Hector ran ahead of a streaming blast of freezing air. Throwing a knife, he swore under his breath as the Overseer swatted it aside. The Overseer swung another staff at the human, knocking him away. Flying forward, the Overseer bombarded Hector with his staves relentlessly, energy arcing with each impact.

            With a smile, the Overseer threw his next javelin. Exploding in a flash of arcane energy as it struck the ground, the javelin knocked Hector off his feet. Raising his arm in defense, Hector felt the force him aside, burning through his coat.

            Hastily rolling aside when the other javelin came flying at him, he sprinted, flinging another knife at the Overseer as another pair of staves formed in his hands. To his target’s surprise, the blade made its mark, burying itself into shoulder joint instead of bouncing off a deflecting barrier like he had expected.

            The Overseer spun around, bringing his staves to block Merana’s chain of attack. Lacking their normal integrity, the ice shafts cracked, nearly exploding in both of their faces.

            Redirecting the energy to his enemy, the Overseer jumped back, slamming his hands together flicking them outward, shaping a cone of cold.

            Merana warded the frosty blast and charged forward, pressing her advantage as she drained the Overseer’s mana reserves. His spells weakened and sputtered as he dodged the ex-Templar’s swings.

            “Catch,” Hector called out.

            Seeing the grenade flying through the air, Merana kicked the Overseer back and threw herself as far away as possible. In a panic, the Overseer poured the last of his power into a final spell, encasing the explosive in ice, became its only victim when the iceberg exploded, riddling him with shards of ice. Whatever the Overseer tried to say degenerated into a string of incoherent screaming as he tried to limp away, falling flat on his face.

            Hector smiled as he sank to his knees, coughing out a mouthful of blood. Running to his side, Merana deactivated her shield and propped him on her shoulder.

            “I’ve got you,” She said.

            “Go finish him off,” He coughed. “We’re not done yet.”

            Leaning Hector against a pillar along the way, Merana strode to her fallen foe, gripping her sword until her knuckles went white. Her anger spiked as he feebly crawled away.

            “No, no, no,” He quickly muttered. “This was not supposed to happen. The Promised Day…” He rolled over to rest on his good elbow, sneering at his enemy. “Come to gloat? Don’t bother.”

            Merana scoffed.

            “I’m not one to stoop to such behavior,” She replied.

            The Overseer heaved and shook, then he began to laugh.

            “What’s so funny?”

            “You have done far more than we ever expected,” the Overseer said. “But you have scarcely hurt us. Most of the people you killed today were those that we have indoctrinated, and they are only a small portion of what are.”

            Merana swallowed as the Overseer took a pained breath.

            “Look around you. This is not an underground prison. It is a city, a nation, a people. All of whom are dedicated to the resurgence of the elven people. You may have killed me, but tomorrow, I will be replaced, our plans will continue, and you will all be dead.” The elf cocked his head to the side, looking past Merana. “Isn’t that right, Vaelnor?”

            Merana spun around, activating her shield, and found herself staring at a tall, light-haired elf in the middle of swinging a warhammer at her. The shield scarcely did anything to suppress the magnitude of the blow, only dispersing the initial energy into a wide arc, pulverizing the Overseer’s internal organs as he was caught in the blast.

            Hurtling through the air, Merana crashed against the wall pillar in a bone-breaking impact and fell in a heap. Forcing her eyes open despite the pain, she saw her sword laying next to the pillar she had flown past. Trying to reach for her weapon, her arm only twitched.

            With a defiant roar, Hector dragged himself to stand, picking his sword up once more as he came to his friend’s aid. One of the guards from Vaelnor’s entourage came from behind and knocked him off balance and magically dragged the battered warrior the leader’s feet.

            Scowling at the crippled human, Vaelnor raised his hammer brought the pommel down, impaling the man that lay before him, staring at him with cold eyes while the last dregs of life ebbed out of him.

            “As fitting of an end for warriors of your stature,” he praised his fallen enemies. “But your journey is at an end.”

            She could tell that she was not going to survive, but as the heavy footfalls came nearer and the wounds she had suffered faded from her consciousness, she could not force her hand to reach for the last grenade.

            Vaelnor stood over Merana, sighing like a disappointed father. “You would have been a great ally.”

            Closing her eyes, the Templar braced for the finishing blow.

 

-¤-

 

            Vaelnor emerged from the Education Center, lips pressed into a thin line. Commander Levraan had been installed as the new Overseer and had already set about cleaning up the mess that his predecessor had left behind. Seeing a team of healers stooped over Julios, he approached them. One stood to greet his fellows continued working.

            “What is his status, Noriam?” Vaelnor inquired.

            “He will survive, Hierarch.” The healer replied. “But we will need to place him in stasis for some time while we tend to his injuries.”

            Looking at Julios, Vaelnor turned back to Noriam and nodded.

            “Very well. Do what you must. He still has work to do.”

            The Hierarch carried on, looking out over the city. They had suffered losses; no matter how minor, Vaelnor loathed the notion of wasting the lives of his people. Even though their presence had been discovered, it was a necessary price to pay. They had waited for ages, but now everyone could feel the changes in the world. Their time was fast approaching, and he would allow nothing to impede the Promised Day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N (Originally posted 30-JAN-2016): So there you have it: Total Party Kill.
> 
> At any rate, this is part one of the Apocalytian Saga. Each part of the Apocalyptian Saga will be covering a different part of the world and the growing conflict. Between each part, there will be an interlude or two to show what is happening elsewhere in Thedas. If you are wondering if any of your favorite characters will make an appearance, the answer is yes. Just wait and see.
> 
> I hope you have enjoyed the story so far, and that you will continued to do so in the future. Constructive criticism and reviews are always welcome. If you really like the story, be sure to tell your friends, acquaintances, etc…  
> Anyways, see you around. Ciao!
> 
> Updated as of 27-SEP-2019:
> 
> Right. I admit, I was kind of a dick when writing the original A/N. The main thrust of what I was trying to accomplish was establishing the principle that, if I was willing to off an entire party’s worth of characters, anyone and everyone could be the next victim. I think I was enjoying that prospect a little too much in this particular instance. While that is still very much in the books (and within my repertoire), that level of cast decimation is not liable to occur again, or if it did, I would be a bit more tactful about it.
> 
> Thank you for your patience. Just one more piece before I can start on porting Isolation.


	15. From the Deep...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the depths of the world, ancient alliances and debts are called upon.

In the realms beneath the Deep Roads, few without the taint had ever braved the realm and returned the surface, so if were there any fully sentient beings present to observe their passing, they would have found it strange to see two untainted individuals walking openly in the caves that played home to large colonies of darkspawn. Both elven, one was tall, covered in heavy cloth. The other was short, little more than half the size of the other, wearing travel robes. She trailed behind in a manner of a servant, staff in hand in anticipation of her master's needs. A ward surrounded the duo, keeping the taint at bay. The darkspawn as a whole took effort to avoid crossing their path, clinging to the nooks and crannies of the deep. Walking alongside her master, the diminutive elven woman was forced practically run to keep pace. Side by side, they made their way past the tainted patrols, and pushing past an invisible wall, they walked into the realms not held by the creatures.

The path was bare and undisturbed, allowing them simple passage into the heart of the cavern where their destination laid. Ancient walls rose up and the land around the bridge sloped into pits of molten rock, leaving only one way to reach their destination.

The bridge was wide enough for four wagons to ride side by side and seemed as if a mile long, looking as if it had been recently built. Scowling, the taller elf stepped forward and slashed a flurry of projectiles with his sword until his ally raised a repelling ward in front of them.

“Stay behind me, Master,” She said, her voice somewhat distant and flat.

Merely nodding, the Master advanced along with her, lending her a small measure of his power to keep her ward up.

“Impressive,” The Master said. “After all this time, the defenses are still fully functional. But it will take more than that to stop me.”

When they reached the gates, the Master pried them open, forcing them apart with his hands. In the dark interior, their eyes adjusted, and from there, the Master guided them forward, navigating the traps and labyrinthine passageways. The shadows and yawning spaces threatened to swallow them and pressed against them as if to crush them when they did not yield.

Forcing their way past gate after gate, the Master finally stopped to inspect their final hurdle. The seals were still secure and unmolested, as he darkspawn had yet to reach this place. Seeing this, the Master grunted with satisfaction.

“Step back,” he commanded.

“As you command, Master,” the elf said with a low bow as she complied.

Gathering the ambient energy, the Master pressed against the seal, burning some of his stores of power. With a push and a deafening _crack_ , the seal fell apart and into a heap in front of the door as they opened inward. The interior was dimly lit, but was sufficient to see the lone occupant.

“Wait here,” the Master ordered, then entered the chamber.

Curled in the center, bound in chains, a draconic creature filled the chamber, its prison. Unlike the creatures that stemmed from him and his kind, he dwarfed even the greatest of high dragons. As the Master approached, the creature stirred, its slumber disturbed by the unique presence of arcane power approaching.

“So the Destroyer finally comes,” it bellowed softly.

“Speaker of Mysteries,” the Master answered. “Hello, old friend.”

“Old as time and ancient are we, but through long slumber, have we truly earned such a designation?”

“Your speech patterns remain the same, I see.”

Despite the anatomical difficulties, the being managed to smile.

“Rarely does one as distinguished as yourself make the effort, nay, few at all ever visit me or my brothers. What brings you to my...humble chambers?”

“I wonder why you should even ask that. My ambition has not faltered, and your oath still remains valid.”

“Ahh...” the creature sighed contently, voice reverberated off the walls. “So it is time for the Final Blade to awaken once more?”

“Yes. And this time, Father will not be able to intervene.”

“Then let us be off. I tire of this prison.”

Nodding, the Master raised his hand, and a nimbus of energy gathered around him. With its release, the great links that made up the chains around the draconic creature fell away. Shaking itself free, the beast emerged from its prison to the subtle surprise of the servant waiting outside. Recovering, she quickly moved herself from his path, at which he chuckled deeply

“I see you have wasted no time in assembling your force,” said the draconic being, sniffing dismissively at the elf.

“All will come to pass in due time, Razikale,” The Master replied. "Now, shall we begin?”

****

** End of Requiem. **

****

** Prepare for Isolation. **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N (Originally posted 30-JAN-2016: If you are not already aware, I began writing this story well before Dragon Age: Inquisition was named as such. Much of what you learned in Inquisition is not going to apply here, and characters that were introduced in Inquisition will not make an appearance here. For all intents and purposes, this is an AU.
> 
> Updated as of 27-SEP-2019
> 
> Not much to really add for this one. Probably because I was starting to get into the stride of actually writing A/Ns as I went along, so I don't have to dig through my notes and memories to figure out what was on my mind when I wrote this.
> 
> But, in short, we get to see one of the Old Gods (specifically, Razikale, one of the few untainted of his brethren remaining), the draconic beings that the people of Tevinter worshiped prior to the First Blight.. It was thanks to their influence that Corypheus and crew tried to enter the Golden City before becoming the first of the Darkspawn. That will be addressed more thoroughly at a later date.


End file.
